Authors: S Jackson Rivera
“You’re laughing at me,” she accused, narrowing her eyes at him.
He laughed even louder. He didn’t want to be laughing at the moment, but the more he tried to stop, the harder he laughed. It took him several minutes to finally get it under control, despite the angry glare Rhees had locked on him during his outburst.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said, gripping his cheeks, trying to squeeze the threatening smile into submission and prevent another eruption.
“Do what?” she fumed, her glare still frosty. “I’m not allowed to vent my fa-rus-stration now,
eee-ther
?”
“Say shit—I mean—
stuff
like that,” he implored. “I can’t possibly be expected to carry on a serious conversation with you when you say things like,
juicy crisis
? Come on, give me a break.”
“You made me promise I wouldn’t curse,” she said coolly. “I’m trying to keep that promise, but if you’d rather I just said the real—”
“No!” he cut her off. He rubbed the back of his neck, no longer trying to hide how humorous he thought it all was. “Keep your promise. It might be the only thing we can count on to keep us from killing each other.” He almost laughed again. “Wait. What do you mean,
either
?”
“I
also
promised I wouldn’t run away anymore, so I thought I’d try drowning my sorrows instead.” She’d stopped slurring, suddenly very solemn and direct. “I learned that from you. You call me the runner, but you run away from everything that makes you the tiniest bit uncomfortable.”
“I don’t run,” he said, offended. “I’m right here.”
“Bull-oney!”
He closed his eyes; the effort to not laugh again strained his reserve.
“There’s nothing unusual about that one.”
“Yeah, there is. Most people just say ba-loney.” He emphasized the ‘ba’ instead of ‘bull’.
Rhees made a production of rolling her eyes.
“You ran last night,” she whispered, watching herself fidget with her hands.
“I need to get that damned boat running again,” he said, incredulously. “You know that.”
“The mechanic fixed the part. You stayed after the fact, and drank yourself stupid . . . because you didn’t want to come back to me.”
“You’ve got that wrong,” he said quietly. “I wanted nothing more than to get back to you. I drank because I didn’t think I
should
want to so badly.”
“I’m not the one who’s sick,” she said, rolling her eyes again.
He scrubbed his face with his hands.
oOo
Paul moved to her side of the booth and started handfeeding her because she refused to eat after getting herself worked up again. She made him take a bite for every bite she took, but they finished off both sandwiches.
“Feel better?” he asked.
“Yes, I like it mush better when you sit closh to me.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and he didn’t pull away.
“That too, but I might have been referring to your attempt to run away, by running toward the alcohol,” he said, noticing the slur of her words. “But I was asking about your stomach.”
“You e-like stomachs.” She giggled. “I thought you e-liked
booobs
.”
“I’m a guy.” He chuckled quietly. He was still reeling a bit from the new revelation about the night before. Having sex with her again went completely against his well-thought-out plan—the plan to drive her away—for her own good, but learning he hadn’t betrayed her, it left him feeling almost giddy. “We’re all geared to like boobs,” he said with a grin. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t have a thing for
other
body parts too.”
“And your thing is bellies,” she giggled again, and he nodded at the truth.
The waitress brought her another beer, but Rhees slid the bottle to Paul. “You have this one.”
“I’m glad you don’t want it.” He couldn’t hide his relief. “You’re pretty tipsy already.”
“That’s not why I want you to have it.” She grinned, mischievously.
“Oh?”
“You’re more fun when you’re da-runk.”
“I know, lately. I’m sorry.” He thought for a minute, shifting to serious again. “Rhees? Last night, did I . . .
force
myself on you, again?”
“
Nooo
.” Her lips formed an O for effect as she drew the word out. “You didn’t the first time ee-ther. I
keeep
telling you that.”
“I honestly can’t decide whether to be appalled with myself, or relieved.” The crease between his brows deepened. He remembered how sick he’d felt before she told him he’d used the condoms with her. No matter how much he believed she’d be better off with someone else, he had no desire to be that man, no desire to hurt her that way. He had no desire, whatsoever, to be with anyone else.
“When I found two used condoms in my pocket this morning, it made me sick to my stomach. Rhees, I never think about anyone but you. Every thought, every fantasy— even my wet dreams—” He stopped abruptly, embarrassed about admitting that last bit. “I didn’t understand how I could have possibly cheated on you—”
“You definitely did not cheat me out of anything.” She giggled. “You’re a good teacher—ex-cell-en-te! Muy bueno! Orgasms are the best, greatest, most wonderful thing I’ve ever felt in my whole freakin’ ly-ife!”
He gaped at her, conflicted, until he finally shook his head again and grinned, ear to ear. “So I actually called it bumping bellies, huh?
Aloud
? I’ve never called it that to anyone before, kind of my own personal visualization. You have the most perfect, tempting, adorably sexy belly.”
“Mine? My belly has this
pooooch
.” She looked down and pulled her T-shirt up. “No matter how much I suck it in—it’s far from perr-fect.”
“Crap! Rhees, put your shirt down.” He reached to help her, jerking it down. He leaned in and whispered, “Your belly is excellente. I’ve wanted to spend time there, lay my head on it, rub it—kiss it. Damn! I can’t be thinking about this.” He scooted away a few inches.
She grinned like a lunatic. “You have a pretty sexy belly too.”
“I thought you liked my Adam’s apple.”
“That was
bee-fore
we
bumped bellies
.” She sniggered and her gaze dropped to his stomach. “That eight pack you got goin’ on . . . whoa!”
He grinned and looked bashful, but then the crease between his eyes made another appearance. “So . . . you’re okay with it? I didn’t freak you out, hurt you . . . or something?”
She exhaled her frustration but then pushed the new beer a little closer to him.
“Drink this and there’s a chance we can do it again.” She tapped the bottle, smiling and leaning toward him, trying to look seductive. That definitely helped him to stop smiling, and it made her frown.
“Honestly, Paul. You’d be a lot more fun if you’d just drink.”
“I’m thinking about cutting back on the drinking again. Last night shouldn’t have happened—it wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been so stupid. If I hadn’t been so drunk . . . it can’t change anything.” Paul killed the lighter mood they’d started to enjoy, his conscience getting the best of him—reality had set in again.
Paul did his best to avoid looking at her. She, on the other hand, didn’t stop looking at him, lovingly, at first, but then the worry, concern, regret—every sad emotion he could imagine, took over, breaking his heart. They sat silently for too long and she’d finally turned her gaze to a picture hanging on the wall on the other side of the bar. Her eyes had glazed over and he wasn’t certain if it was the alcohol or the topic.
“I
really
wish I could see the Loch Ness Monster,” she finally said out of nowhere.
Paul waited for the punch line, but she didn’t say another word.
“What does the Loch Ness Monster have to do with anything?”
She shrugged. “I just wish I could see it, that’s all—or Bigfoot—I’d settle for seeing Bigfoot.”
He laughed, shaking his head in surrender. “I think you need sleep.”
oOo
“You didn’t sleep any more than I did last night,” Rhees said after Paul told her he’d like her to take a nap. He’d even put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye to convey his concern about her condition.
“I’m used to drunken binges on little to no sleep. Three beers and a shot are about to do you in.” He flashed his crooked grin and it was all she could do not to swoon. “And I need to see about getting that engine part back on
The Tow’d
.”
“I’m not
that
drunk.” She thought the alcohol had already started to wear off, but she
was
tired. An hour and a half of sleep wasn’t enough.
His sexy smile morphed into a stern, warning look.
“Okay,
dad.
I’ll take a nap.”
He grinned at her jab, but walked on toward the deck, not noticing her turn off into the office to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. When she came around the corner a few seconds later, onto the deck, Ronnie stood behind Paul, massaging his shoulders and he looked to be enjoying it, all too much.
“Hey!
Babe
,” Rhees said loudly, her tone dripped with derision. He turned Rhees’ direction and was surprised to see her standing—not behind him. He jerked around and looked at Ronnie as if seeing a ghost.
“I saw Rhees give you a massage earlier,” Ronnie explained, not missing a beat, “and I thought you looked like you could use another.” She turned to Rhees patronizingly—the girl didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. “Be a good girl and go get Paul some aspirin. Poor baby has a headache.”
Rhees didn’t move a muscle. She looked at Ronnie, then Paul, and tilted her head at him. He looked as stunned as Rhees felt.
“I thought it was you,” he grasped at a defense. “You were right behind me.”
“Poor baby,” Ronnie said. She pressed her bikini-clad body against Paul’s back while giving Rhees a smug, challenging look. “You’re obviously not very sensitive to his
needs
. If you really cared about him, you’d go get the aspirin, like I asked, instead of yelling so close to him, and making his head feel worse.”
“Ronnie. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need your help. Thanks,” Paul said, stepping away and turning to face her. He used far more restraint than Rhees thought he would—
should
—or felt comfortable with.
“Are you sure?” Ronnie reached up and seductively brushed her fingers down Paul’s neck and across his collarbone. “I thought you were enjoying it, you know, when you leaned affectionately into my hands . . . and
moaned
, a second ago.”
He glanced nervously at Rhees before giving Ronnie another confused—but not harsh look—it made Rhees’ blood boil that it wasn’t harsh. Paul was not the kind of man to have trouble being harsh when appropriate, and harsh, in this instance, was warranted. She was positive of that.
“Well, I’ll be around, if you change your mind.” Ronnie sashayed away, making whore eyes at him as she went. He stared, his mouth agape, again, until Rhees pushed it closed for him with her finger. She gave him an angry, bug-eyed look, and walked off toward the bathroom. All he could do was give her a,
what did I do,
look.
oOo
Rhees made it to the gazebo, but didn’t see her mat. She ran through her memory. She definitely remembered seeing Paul putting both mats away when he got up that morning. She looked around. A few people lay scattered around the deck, on other mats. She looked to see who might be brazen enough to dare use hers.
It only took a second to find the answer. Ronnie had rolled it out and was just about to sit down and make herself comfortable.
“Do you see what it says on that mat?” Rhees shrieked.
Rhees didn’t realize how loud she’d spoken, but not one eye failed to look over at the commotion. Ronnie looked down at the writing on the mat and shrugged.
“It says it’s Paul’s, but he won’t mind if
I
use it.”
“
I
mind.” Again, Rhees’ raised voice reached every ear on deck.
Ronnie glanced around, looked at Rhees, looked Paul’s direction and actually seemed to ask for his help with her eyes. Rhees shot him a glance, daring him to choose Ronnie over her. He cautiously headed their direction.
“Paul got it for
me
. It’s
ours
.
We
are the only ones who use it.”
“He was on it this morning, alone. You were on another one. The line between what’s yours, and what’s not, seems a little blurred to me.” Ronnie tilted her head, implying how she knew more about their marital problems than the couple had been letting on.
“Paul’s
mine
.”
“Calm down, Rhees.” Paul rested his hand gently on her back and guided her to sit on the mat.
“Tell her you’re mine.” She tried to put her arms around his neck, but he grabbed her hands and lay her down. His brows knit together as he knelt over her and spoke close to her ear. “Please take a nap.”
“He’s mine—like
I’m
his
.” She glared at Ronnie and then turned back to Paul. “I’m yours. No one else has ever—”
Paul put his finger over her lips and shushed her gently. Rhees had staggered him. It had been a while since he’d thought of it that way, that he was her one and only. He didn’t deserve the gift—but damn, if the idea didn’t make his male ego swell.
“You need rest.”
“But she’s trying to steal—”
“Shh . . .” he said again, and whispered, “she’s a paying student. You’re drunk. You’re tired. Get some sleep, please?”
“Kiss me,” she whispered. “Show her you belong to me.”
He flinched, torn between doing what he wanted to do, and doing what he thought was right.
He kissed her on the forehead.
Chapter 23
P
aul stopped abruptly when he came around the corner and not only noticed, but overheard a group of men, two of his students, and three other men. He knew Micah from Rick’s shop, but he’d never seen the other two.
“What I would give to bury my face in those tits,” one of the men he didn’t know said.
“How does she do that?” the other stranger asked. “That’s hot as hell.”
Micah, Gio, and Adrian gave each other nervous looks.
“You guys have a death wish,” Gio said. “No one talks about her like that, ever! No matter how much they might think about it, no one says it aloud.”
Paul glanced around the deck to find the inspiration for their uncouth comments, but he found Rhees on the north corner of the deck with a group of school-aged girls. It shouldn’t have surprised him, it was Tuesday, but with everything going on, dance club had slipped his mind. Rhees happened to be demonstrating a belly roll, wearing nothing but a skimpy, white bikini he’d never seen before. No camisole cover-up. It wasn’t like her to parade around in so little.
She’d been driving him crazy with all her new clothes. The joke he’d hoped to play on her, by nearly buying out the store, had backfired. So far, Rhees had looked great in everything she’d worn, and it was getting harder and harder not to ogle.
She turned a full circle, working her hips, and rolling her stomach as she went, very carefully exaggerating the moves . . . so the
girls
could see clearly. He lost his train of thought for a second, until the men’s conversation helped him remember what he wanted to do.
“We should get out of here,” Adrian said, anxiously. “I value my life. Let’s go grab something to drink before Pa—”
His friend had interrupted him with a throaty growl inspired by Rhees’ next move.
“
Shiit
!” the second stranger exclaimed, practically drooling. “What that girl can do with those hips, imagine her on top. What she could do with a coc—”
The man was unable to finish his sentence because of the fist down his throat.
“That’s my wife!” Paul bellowed. The man lay flat on the deck, and Paul turned to the other man who’d also spoken so vulgarly about Rhees. He picked him up and tossed him off the deck, into the water, and then did the same thing to the man he’d struck.
“I better not see you on my deck again, got that?” Paul threatened the men in the water, and then turned on the other three men, the ones he knew.
They held their hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t say a word—I tried to stop them,” Adrian said. Gio and Micah nodded frantically.
“You’d better watch what creepazoids you bring around my shop,” Paul sneered, driving home how serious he was, and they slinked away. Paul turned to give a gaping Rhees a severe look before ducking into the equipment room, shaking his head.
oOo
Later that afternoon, almost closing time, Rhees glanced up in time to see Paul stop cold when he saw her again. She’d covered up with a short, sheer sundress, sheer enough to blur out her figure, a little, making the bikini underneath look like—
“Hell,” she heard him mumble quietly. “I’m in hell.”
He’d just come around the corner with Fred on his heels. Apparently, getting the parts back into the boat wasn’t going too well if he’d resorted to calling on Fred again. Paul glanced away, uncomfortably, and then, he seemed to be trying too hard to not look again.
Dance club had finished up, and she was just now gathering up the stereo equipment she always used to play the music they danced to. She didn’t understand Paul’s reaction to her until she remembered what she was wearing.
She’d noticed the bikini on a clearance rack in front of a store the night she and Christian went dancing. The four-dollar price tag had caught her frugal eye, and she needed new swimming suits again, but the bikini was even skimpier than her last two. In all the clothes Paul had purchased for her the day things fell apart, there were no new suits. The sales price had made her take a minute to debate whether she should buy it.
She’d finally dismissed the idea, knowing Paul would have a cow, even with a camisole, but after running into him at the Starfish that night, she didn’t really care about what he thought at the time. On the way home, in an angry huff, she’d made Christian wait for her as she made the purchase with her own money.
The sundress did happen to be in the batch of clothes Paul had purchased from what she now referred to as, The Consummation Store. She hadn’t planned to wear it, their current problems had her thinking she’d have to save her marriage first, but after what happened the night before, she realized the timing couldn’t be better.
She’d always believed she didn’t know how to play games, but the stakes were too high, and she was desperate. She’d made an educated guess as to why Paul had thrown those men into the water earlier. Knowing that Paul wasn’t the only one
noticing
her almost made her change her mind, but she would willingly fight with whatever means she had at her disposal to keep him in her life.
The look on his face earlier, when he’d noticed her wearing the bikini—after he’d tossed those men—she’d held her breath, expecting him to charge
her
, and insist she cover up, if not drag her out of there by her hair. But he’d played it cool, like now, even though he kept stealing glances at her with a befuddled look on his face. She finally had to turn away so he wouldn’t see her satisfied smirk. She felt it a small victory in what she deemed an act of war.
oOo
Paul imposed himself into the dinner plans of Tracy and Regina, and a group of their friends, which meant that Rhees would be imposing as well. After their talk at Oscar’s, it surprised, and saddened Rhees to see him still trying to get out of spending too much time with her, alone. He didn’t drink at all, and alcohol was the last thing Rhees wanted after her liquid lunch, but he did his best to extend the meal, pushing the others to have, yet another drink, and ordering dessert for everyone, on him.
It grew late and no one could be persuaded to party any longer, so Paul and Rhees found themselves silently making their way north until they reached the shop. They both stopped at the same time, hesitating, not knowing whether they were turning right, to his apartment, or left, to the shop.
“The shop?” they both asked at the same time. It seemed the safer territory.
oOo
Paul had the mat all laid out with the pillows and sheets from the spare room, which was now her closet, when she came from the bathroom. He sat on the deck floor, leaning against the gazebo railing, staring somberly out over the ocean, even though it was dark. Instead of climbing onto the mat to go to sleep, she sat next to him, and after a long while, rested her head on his shoulder. He didn’t protest. After another few minutes, he rested his head against hers and reached for her hand.
“I honestly don’t know what to do here.” He finally broke the silence, watching himself caress her hand with his. “Even
my
brain—
especially
my brain, isn’t enough to figure out what to do about any of this.”
“Maybe your IQ is the problem. You’re overthinking it. But you’re stuck with me. Give me the silent treatment, shoot me those icy eyes, yell, scream, do whatever you think you need to do, but I’m not leaving here.”
“What if
I
left?”
She whipped her head around to look at him, and exhaled what sounded like a tortured sigh.
“You’re sick, Baby.”
“You’re right.”
It was the first time she hadn’t argued with him about it and Paul looked at her, surprised.
“I’m lovesick. I’m in love with the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.”
“Pfft.” He rattled his head and they were both silent again for a while.
“I know you didn’t fall in love with me because of my looks. If that were the case, you would have come home with me the night you said you were gay.”
“Yep.” She nodded in agreement. “Not your looks, although your pretty face
is
a bonus, as well as your perfectly sculpted body.”
He cursed under his breath but didn’t seem to want to argue about her calling him pretty. Instead, he yawned, and tried to shake off how tired he had to be.
“I know you didn’t marry me for my money. You didn’t realize I had any until it was too late.”
“Nope, not the money.”
“See? There is no logical explanation for it, other than what—”
“What Keene said? That’s bull.”
“It’s not bull. You’re only with me because your rape-dar recognized the kind of man I am. That vile bastard, punk kid, triggered something in you twenty years ago. What you think is love . . . is just a sick byproduct of what happened to you. You need help, and when you get it, you’ll see I’m right.” He looked up at the night sky and she noticed how shiny his eyes had become, reflected from the light of the moon.
“I’m not as good as you think I am. I thought we’d established that already.”
“You’re absolutely the devil.” He chuckled, but then slipped back into his doom and gloom mood. “That’s the effect I have on you, and I know it’s only going to get worse.”
“It is?” She grabbed on to the sliver of hope in his sentence. He didn’t use any ridiculous clarifiers like, it’s only going to get worse,
if you stay with me,
or
it’s only going to get worse
if I don’t stop trying to cram Keene’s nuthouse down your throat.
“Are you putting an end to this stupid plan you have to get me well enough to stop loving you?”
“Well, since I can’t keep my big, drunken mouth in check—or keep
He
—out of you, I’d say that plan will have to be scuttled.”
She turned and sat up on her knees to look at him, with even more hope.
“So, we can really just be married, and live happily ever after?”
He snorted a laugh and shook his head at her; letting her know how unbelievable he thought she was, but his comments made her the happiest she’d been, for too long. He shocked her even more by grabbing for her around the waist, and pulling her into his lap, cuddling her like a baby, but more vehemently.
“Oh, Rhees,” he said, resting his chin on top of her head, his voice revealing the dilemma he felt himself facing. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Hold me in your arms like this, forever?”
He chuckled again but sounding unsure of himself.
“There’s no place I’d rather be.” She smiled up at him, but he didn’t smile back, warning her that, while things had improved, they weren’t quite where she wanted them to be . . . yet.
“There’s no place I’d rather you be,
too
.” He didn’t sound convincing enough.
Her heart sank at the long pause between what he’d said, and what she knew he was about to say. She finally jumped in with what she thought he was thinking—to cut him off at the pass—just in case.
“I never once, thought, ‘Oh, look. There’s Paul. I’d sure like to be raped by him’.” She knew it was a risk. He’d said, several times, how he was tired of talking about it.
“Maybe.” He ran his fingers up and down her arm, not really noticing what he was doing as he was lost in thought. “But maybe you don’t even realize—I can’t just stand by, knowing you need help, and not get it for you. I can’t just sit by and watch the beauty in you be destroyed, because of me—
by
me.
“There’s no logical explanation. There’s no other reason someone like you would fall for someone like me. It’s always puzzled me, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, until Keene explained it. Since then—after everything—if you’re right, if you’re not with me because of that—I don’t know why the fuck you are.”
“Gah!” She started to shake, so frustrated with him for being so damned pig-headed, but words failed her. He was hell-bent on believing all the psychobabble Keene had fed him, and it made her want to scream.
“Damn your parents!” It came out before she could catch herself. “I’m sorry, I mean,
dang
them, but that’s just not strong enough. May they drown in a tub of their own urine.”
Paul laughed. “I’ll let that one slide since I started it. I shouldn’t have said the F-word. I’m sorry.”
“Listen to me and listen good—because I’m getting so . . .
feather-mucking
sick of this od-gay amned-day conversation too.”
“What?”
“I want to not swear, with flair. I’m experimenting. It’s harder than you’d think—but that’s off subject.” She pulled away from him enough to hold his face between her hands, looking him in the eye. “I’m going to tell you why I love you, once and for all. Do you hear me?”
He nodded slightly, but he looked wary.
“I love you because you take care of me. I know that sounds lame—I am lame, because I’m a grown woman and I’m supposed to be able to take care of myself—but you know what a baby I am, which would make most guys run for their lives. You’re always there for me—well—until last night, but I’m calling that a one-time glitch. Paul, Baby . . .” She saw him press his lips together to suppress a smile at the endearment. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I never want to have to figure that out. The very thought of it makes me panic.”
“You’re stronger than you think you are. You’re tou—”
“Tough as nails. Yeah, yeah.”
“Just because you don’t believe me, or in yourself, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
She narrowed her eyes, deliberating what he’d said.
“I’ll work on believing it, if you’ll work on accepting that you’re worthy of being loved.”
He looked off, bothered, and she shook her head, hating his family more each day.
“Back to my
Why I love you
speech.” She wasn’t about to give up yet. “Remember when the Swensons were here? The day they did the night dive, I noticed you did a double-take when you overheard me telling Tracy and Regina that I couldn’t go to lunch with them, because I didn’t have any money left. I saw the look on your face, but at the time, I thought you were just being a sourpuss, as usual.”
That made the corner of his mouth quirk up in an almost smile, but he dropped his head and looked self-conscious, because he probably knew what was coming.
“But that evening, I miraculously found sixteen dollars in my pocket, enough to eat well for the next few days.
“The more I thought about it, the more I knew I hadn’t put it there and forgotten about it. I never carry sixteen dollars around with me at one time, let alone ram that much change into my pocket. No, Paul. You put it there, because you cared. That look I mistook for grumpiness, was actually concern, because you have a bigger heart than you like to admit. After that, every few days, I’d find more money, everywhere, in my pockets, at the bottom of my backpack—in my BC pocket—what would I need money for during a dive? ‘Oh, I think I’ll stop off at the local sand bar and buy a drink’,” she teased.