Home to Stay by Maryann Jordan

6

“Oh, shit!” As the words left her mouth, Lucy barely heard the laughter from the two older men standing nearby.

“Think I’ll give Rupert a ride home, John. Nice to meet you, and I’ll be in touch,” one of them said to John.

The flash of anger in his eyes had now morphed into resignation as he recognized her. He nodded toward the one who spoke before turning back to her.

“Oh, John, I’m so sorry!” She set the mug on the table and grabbed a wad of napkins, dabbing at his shirt in a feckless effort to make the mess a little less messy. All it did was make the tight, now-wet t-shirt stick even more to his sculpted abs and chest. The moisture left her mouth but she managed to keep from grabbing what was left of her beer from the table and chugging it.

His large hands settled over hers, stilling the motion. He unfurled her fingers, pulling the soppy napkins from her grip and tossing them to the table next to the mug.

“I can’t believe I did that! I just ran right into you! I was looking down at my feet because I hate to step in sticky places where people have spilled beer. Oh, my God, now that’s me. There’s a wet place on the floor that’s going to become sticky. And I’ve ruined your shirt. I’ll buy you a new one, honest. Just give me your size… well, that’s probably an extra-large, isn’t it? Not that you’re overweight. Just big. Big in a good way. Not that there’s a bad way to be big—”

“Lucy.”

She stopped babbling, not because John’s voice was a loud command but more from a firm desire that she should let him speak. “Yes?”

“It’s fine. It’s just a T-shirt and beer. Nothing that won’t come out in the wash.”

“Oh, right. Well, I can wash it for you—”

“There’s no need.”

His hands still covered hers as they rested on his chest, and the warmth from their touch replaced the shock of their accident. The blue of his T-shirt made his eyes appear stormy gray but not from anger. Need? Desire? I’m probably imposing my own thoughts on him. Licking her lips, she glanced around, thankful that no one was paying them any attention. “Oh, your friends have left.”

“That was my grandfather and a friend of his who’ll take him home.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, you were his ride home, weren’t you?”

“It’s okay. He’ll be just as happy to have his friend driving him home. Anyway, I’m glad to see you.”

Her breathing relaxed as it appeared he truly wasn’t angry. “I’m glad we met again, too, although the way we met was a bit auspicious.”

“You think?” he laughed. He looked around before settling his gaze back on her. “Were you here with anyone… um… special?”

“I’m here with a friend, but from the looks of things, I’m about to get ditched.” His body stiffened, the feel of his muscles tightening underneath her fingers.

“I can’t imagine anyone ditching you.” His voice was a growl, and while she’d read that vocal description in books, she had never actually heard someone growl before. The way his tone vibrated through her body ended in her core, and she decided that he could growl at her any time he wanted. A crinkle had settled between his brows, and she wanted to reach up and smooth it away.

“Well, my girlfriend, Paula, wanted me to hear this band. She goes to lots of concerts and heard this one from Canada at a music festival up there. I was kind of her wingman, and she’ll leave with whoever catches her attention.” She jerked her head from side to side quickly, adding, “That sounded very uncharitable. We usually have a good time, and truthfully, I don’t come out very often. Plus, I drive separately so I can leave whenever I want.”

“So, you weren’t on a date?”

She laughed, and a little snort slipped out, followed by a blush. “No. I was going to stay at home and paint my shutters, but she convinced me I could do that tomorrow.”

“Paint your shutters?”

“Yes. I have a lot of house projects. That’s why I was in the hardware store.”

“That sounds like me. I’ve been helping my grandfather around his house. He’s the one who suggested we come out tonight.” His gaze shifted over to the beer on the table, and he turned back to her. “Can I buy you another beer since that one’s half-empty?”

“No. I just went to the bar to have something to do while Paula was flirting with the musician between sets.” She scrunched her nose and added, “But the crowd is different tonight. The band seems to draw mostly bikers… big, kind of scary bikers. But Paula’s cool. She has no fear, so I guess my wingman duties are over for the night.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she inwardly winced. Damn, why didn’t I take him up on buying me a drink? Anything to keep talking to him for a while!

“Then can I walk you to your car, or would you like to stay and listen to the music some more?”

“If you’re leaving, you can walk me to my car, but if you’re staying, I’d love to stay with you.”

Her breathing eased as she watched the smile curve his lips, hard-won and even more gorgeous than she’d imagined. He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the crowd with his other arm outstretched to keep others from bumping into her. She felt the burn of his fingers through her shirt and battled the desire to plaster her side to his.

The musicians were back from their break, cranking out the cover songs again. The bikers took up most of the tables and seats, but she followed John as he found a spot against the wall. He leaned back, then bent to whisper into her ear. “I’d let you lean your back against me, but it might smell a bit of beer.”

Who cares?! “Oh, no worries. If you have to wash your shirt, there’s no reason I can’t wash a bit of beer out of mine as well.” She shifted her weight and leaned against him, his broad chest the perfect backrest.

His breath warmed her neck as he leaned forward again. “Are you sure your friend is in this crowd?”

She swung her gaze around before spying Paula sitting at a table to the side with a few of the rough-looking bikers. Considering Paula had talked about the band, Lucy was surprised to see the company her friend was keeping. Standing on her tiptoes, she inclined her head toward the table. “That’s her over there in the black shirt.”

After a moment, Paula looked around and caught Lucy’s eye, waving. Leaning over to say something to one of the men at the table, she hopped up and weaved through the crowd, stopping in front of Lucy. “I wondered what happened to you when you didn’t come back from getting your beer. I was ready to set you up with one of my friends over there. He was looking forward to meeting you.” Paula’s gaze shifted upward to John, appreciation sparking in her eyes. “Oh, now I can see why you didn’t come back!” She smiled up at him. “I’m Paula.”

“John.”

Paula’s eyes widened and she dropped her gaze back to Lucy. “Your soldier?”

Feeling the blush heat all the way to her hair follicles, Lucy made big eyes at Paula, who appeared to have drunk enough to have loosened her tongue, her inhibitions, and her good sense. “Not my soldier, but yes, John is the soldier my class was writing to.”

“Well, well, I can see why you—umph!” Her words halted as Lucy kicked Paula’s ankle.

“I thought you were here for one of the musicians.”

Paula glanced to the table behind her and grinned. “They’re okay, but I hooked up with one of them when I was in Canada. Honestly, it’s the bikers that I’m interested in right now.”

John stiffened behind her, tension radiating off his body. Uncertain of the reason, she kept her focus on her friend. “Just be careful. Text me when you leave, and let me know who you’re with.”

Paula rolled her eyes and patted Lucy’s arm. “Yes, Mom.” Laughing, she added, “I’ll see you on Monday. Nice to meet you, John.”

“Same.”

The single word rumbled from his chest, and Lucy felt the vibration through her back. Paula made her way back to the table, and Lucy observed as her friend leaned over and spoke to one of the bikers. He swung his head around and glared toward Lucy. Wondering if that’s who Paula was hooking up with or was the one who thought he might hook up with her or was just generally grumpy, she leaned further back into John, not wanting more of the biker’s attention.

“Do you want to stay and keep an eye on her?” he asked.

She twisted her head around and looked up at him. “I’ve never had to do that before. She’s not really wild, she just likes to have fun. But she’s always been safe, and if she’s planning on hooking up with someone, she makes sure to snap their license plate and sometimes even the driver’s license and text it to me.”

“Smart. I wouldn’t have pegged her for being that smart based on meeting her tonight.”

Brow furrowed, she blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

He shook his head as one of his hands rested on her waist. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that considering I’ve only known her for about one minute. And she’s your friend. It’s just that I wouldn’t be comfortable with a woman I know sitting down with those men at the table.”

Already feeling guilty about her prejudice based on the look of the men and having never felt prejudice against bikers before, she opened her mouth to question John, but he wasn’t finished.

“I’ve got a lot of friends who ride, and I’ve got no problem with bikers. But I don’t like the look of some of those men.” Shrugging, he added, “I’ve got no facts to base that on. Just a gut feeling. But in Special Forces, my gut saved my life more than once, so I trust it.”

Sliding her phone out of her pocket, she sent a quick text to Paula reminding her to take a picture if she was going to hook up. She watched as Paula read her text then looked up and grinned, shooting Lucy a thumbs up. “Okay, I feel better now.”

“If you’re ready, I’ll walk you to your car.” She nodded, smiling up at him. This time, instead of placing his hand on the small of her back, his fingers skimmed down her arm and linked with hers. He led her through the crowd, and with his size, it was like the parting of the Red Sea. She loved the feel of her hand in his, having dreamed about it for months.

Once outside, the cool air slapped her back into reality. He’s just making sure I’m safe. She lifted her hand and pointed. “I’m the small car over there, under the light.” They walked to her car, and he stood next to it as she clicked the key fob. Turning around, she looked up, finding his attention focused directly on her.

“I know you gave me your phone number, Lucy, but I’d like to give you mine. I’d feel a lot better if I knew you got home safely tonight.”

She didn’t care what the excuse was but having his phone number made her inner Lucy jump up and down with glee. “That would be perfect,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice the quiver of excitement in her voice. After keying in his number, he stepped back and waited while she climbed inside. Tossing him a wave and a smile, she started her car. Through her rearview mirror, she could see him standing in the parking lot under the light until she was out of sight.

Once she pulled into her driveway and looked toward her cottage with the front illuminated by a porch light and motion-sensor light, something her dad insisted on, she smiled. For the whole drive, she was on senses overload. The sound of John’s rough voice. His quiet but steady presence. The hard planes of his chest against her back. The warm ruffle of his breath against her ear when he bent to speak. The point of his chin resting lightly on her head as she leaned against him. The burn of his fingertips on her back. The electricity jolting up her arm from their linked hands.

Finally, blowing out a breath, she alighted and hustled into her house, the key only sticking momentarily. Once inside, she sent him a text.

Home safely.

Good.

She hesitated. His one-word reply reminded her of his succinct letters she’d read to her class. Taking a chance that he wouldn’t mind more, she typed again.

Glad you were there tonight.

Me too.

Okay… is he just being polite? His text came in almost immediately after hers which indicated he was still engaged in the text conversation. Sucking in a quick breath, she decided to continue. What have I got to lose? My dignity? Not after dumping beer all over him… and in front of his grandfather!

So sorry about the beer. You were very gracious.

No worries. It meant we met again and I got to spend more time with you.

Once again, her inner Lucy hopped up and down, her fingers continuing to text as a smile raced across her face.

Next time you go to Moose’s, let me know. I’ll attempt a re-do that’s less messy.

How about you come with me sometime?

Flopping down on her sofa, she ignored the adolescent giggle that slipped out.

I’d love to.

Then it’s a date. And when do you want me to come to the class?

The thought of typing ‘immediately’ hit her mind, but with a shake of her head knew that was ridiculous. Monday would be good but her class would have no time to prepare. Running through the class schedule, she grinned.

How about Wednesday, 2 pm. That will give the class an hour with you, and we’ll have snacks.

Perfect. Can I bring anything?

Only yourself.

A moment passed with no other text and she sighed. I guess that’s all for tonight. Or maybe until I see him again. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter if she was just the teacher and he felt an obligation. Or that he was just a really good guy who made sure she was safe at the bar. Moving into her bedroom, she stripped, then lifted her shirt to her nose, sniffing the faint scent of beer mixed with the woodsy, male scent that was John. Tossing it into the hamper, she shook her head. “God, I’m pathetic,” she said aloud. Yawning with fatigue, a five-minute shower was all she allowed. Slipping into sleep shorts and a camisole, she was brushing her teeth when her phone dinged an incoming message. She bolted into the bedroom, then turned and rushed back to the sink to spit and rinse before grabbing her phone from the nightstand.

Sorry. Got home and wanted to check on Gramps.

She typed and erased several texts, worried they might seem too personal, too inquisitive, too intrusive. Finally, she went for simple.

That’s nice. As soon as she hit send, she dropped her chin to her chest. “Yep. It’s official. I’m pathetic at text flirting… or… whatever we’re doing.” Another moment passed with no incoming text, and she was afraid she’d bored him to sleep. Sliding under the covers, she lay her head on the pillow, her phone in her hand and her gaze on the photograph propped on her nightstand. When her phone vibrated, she jolted.

So, I come on Wednesday to your class. Can’t help but notice that is 5 days away. Seems kind of long.

Heart singing, she grinned, her fingers flying. Is that too far away?

Considering I’d like to see you again… yeah.

Her fingers halted over the keyboard. What to do? Where to meet? Before she had a chance to decide on a reply, he texted again.

How about dinner on Sunday?

Her heart sank. She had a standing family dinner every Sunday, only to be missed by death or dismemberment according to her mom. Have a family thing. How about I fix you dinner tomorrow?

Even better but I should take you out.

Nah… I like to cook. And you can see my cottage. It’s a work in progress.

It’s a date. Text me time and address.

Perfect. Can’t wait.

Me too. Goodnight, Lucy.

Goodnight, John.

Setting her phone down, she snuggled underneath the covers, no longer sleepy as excitement vibrated through her body. Sucking in her lips, she stared at the picture in the dim moonlight filtering through her lacy curtain until her eyes grew heavy and sleep claimed her.