Authors: Emma Taylor
Ever since that fateful day in Somalia, I found my true calling. I enjoy caring for those who come into the ER for injuries.
I rush to the ER to find a patient bleeding. He’s clutching his lower abdomen from pain.
“Patient is male. Caucasian. 6 feet 2 inches,” the nurse continues to brief me as I assess the man lying on the bed.
“How are you, Sir?” I ask.
“We’ll Angie, what a surprise! Are we going to continue to meet like this?” Ty grins at me.
“Ty? What in the world happened to you?” I ask him as I deal with his injury. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to patch him up from a gunshot wound.
“Long story short, I’m home on leave and got into a brawl with some knucklehead trying to steal from a little old lady.”
I gave him a very disappointed look. Home on leave? And he hasn’t tried to get in touch with me!? Without saying I word, I turn around and enter a few entries into the computer. It’s not a serious wound so the nurse can take care of him from here.
“Well, you take care of yourself, Captain Kirk,” I say. I turn around and walk off. I’m mad. He promised to stay in touch and he didn’t even send an email or try to get a hold of me. To make it worse, he’s been home!
“Angie, wait,” he starts. But, I storm off.
For over a year, I’ve been thinking of this guy and he’s just like all the other jerks I’ve dated. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid and so blinded.
Maybe my father was right about him after all.
I work the reminder of my shift, clearly agitated and disappointed. Agitated at him. Disappointed in myself for waiting for him.
*****
I swing open my apartment door and head straight into the bathroom to shower. I immediately head to the kitchen to open a bottle of wine. I need to get all this anger out somehow.
Just as I settle down on the couch to enjoy some TV and wine, the doorbell rings. I get up and look through the peep hole.
It’s Ty with a bouquet of roses and a bottle of wine. Surely he came to apologize for the jerk move he pulled over the last year. I’m going to pretend like I’m not home. He needs to just go away. I want some alone time.
He rings the doorbell again.
“Angie, I know you’re in there. I can hear the TV,” he yells through the door.
I sigh. “What do you want Ty?” I yell back.
“I want to talk. I brought peace offerings,” he says.
“This isn’t someone kind of war. Just go away,” I tell him.
“It feels like a war right now,” he replies.
I open the door only to shut it in his face. Quiet. A few seconds go by and I open the door again.
I roll my eyes and cross my arms.
“I hate you so much right now,” I snort angrily.
He hands me the roses and wine and walks right past me.
“Ok, just come on inside,” I yell after him.
He surveys the room like he’s back in the battlefield and walks around to see past the corners. His arm hugs his abdominal wound from the gunshot earlier.
“You should still be at the hospital or be taking some pain killers,” I tell him as I close the door and walk towards the kitchen sink. I pull an empty vase from the shelf and start to fill it with water for the roses.
“Don’t need any of that,” he says. “I survived out in the battlefield without it.”
I turn to look at him and roll my eyes again.
“You need to stop being so hardheaded and let someone try to take care of you for once,” I inform him. I turn back around to put the flowers in the vase.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He rests his head on my shoulder. Ty takes a deep breath.
“I missed you so much Angie.”
I’m angry again. He thinks he can just walk right back into my life and expect me to forget about everything! This was how it happened the first time. He apologizes, makes me feel sorry for him, tells me how much he misses me, and leaves never to return again!
I’m not falling for this trick he’s playing. I push him off me angrily.
“How dare you!” I scream. “You leave me, promising to keep in touch. But you don’t! You’re home on leave and you haven’t even tried to get a hold of me? No phone call? No email? If you hadn’t showed up at the hospital I may never even have known that you were home.”
I walk past him to grab a napkin to wipe the tears off my face. I’ve been so lonely. I’ve missed him so much. I’ve waited. And waited.
Then he speaks, and I hate myself for hanging onto his every word.
“Angie,” he starts and walks over to hug me. I push him away and grab my glass of wine. I plop on the couch and ignore him.
“I, I’m not home on leave. I’ve been home for a month or so. My contract is done.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I ask.
“No, but it’s the truth,” he pauses. “I want to start over and tell you the truth.” He clears his throat.
“I thought about you. I found out where you lived the first day I got back. But, I didn’t know how to approach you. I wasn’t sure. I was afraid,” he confesses.
Part of me wants to forgive him after this confession, but the other part of me is telling me to stand my ground. He tricked me once before.
“I thought about all the ways I could approach you. I just wasn’t sure.” He walks closer, but refuses to sit. He looks nervous and looks away.
“I wasn’t sure how—what you would think of me.” He runs his fingers through his hair, still cradling his wound with his other hand all the while.
My heart beings to melt. I can’t help it. Ty is strong, always so sure. He says exactly what’s on his mind with no hesitation. But, here he is nervous and unsure of himself.
I sit my glass on the table and motion for him to sit down. He waits for a bit and adheres to my command.
I look into his eyes trying to peer into his soul. I see his eyes move to my lips and stops short of my breasts. I realize that I’m not wearing a bra. My nipples are poking through my tank top. He looks away nervously. I grin. For once he’s nervous and I’m in command.
I get up and straddle him, gently because of his injury.
“Angie,” he says surprisingly. But, before he can finish I lean in and gently bite his bottom lip, teasing him. I roll my tongue in his mouth and kiss him.
He grabs my butt and squeezes. He pulls me harder. From between my legs, I feel him get harder. I grind my hips against him as I hold onto him.
He reaches up, pulls my tank top over my head and eagerly sucks and caresses my breasts. I love the attention he gives them.
I get up, unbuckle his belt, and take off his pants. His member springs into view, standing at attention. Making sure I don’t disturb his injury, I tenderly climb right back on top of him and slip him inside me.
“Ahhh,” he sighs. “You feel so good.”
Ty relaxes and leans back on the couch as I slide up and down on him, slowly. He reaches up to squeeze my breasts. He pulls my chest towards him as he puts his face in between my girls.
Our bodies move in sync as I gently ride him. Ty kisses me again with one hand on my breast and the other on my butt. He feels so good.
Ty puts a finger in my mouth. Still riding slowly on top of him, I suck on his finger as if I had his hard member in my mouth. He reaches around, spreads my butt cheeks and penetrates me from behind with this finger.
“Oh my god Ty,” I moan as my eyes roll into the back on my head. Pleasure after pleasure sweeps through my body.
“Oh, Ty!” I yell and climax. Sensing my orgasm, Ty immediately comes too.
I collapse on top of him, not wanting to get off for fear he’ll disappear again.
“I love you Angie,” Ty finally says. His face is happy, but slightly pained, and I realize I’m leaning on his injury. I gently slide off of him and onto the floor, between his legs.
“What I wanted to say earlier was,” he stops for a second, and turns back to me. “I went to meet with you Dad a few days ago. I told him that I love you and that I want to marry you.”
He pulls out a small black box, gets down on his knee beside me, and says, “He gave me his blessing. So, will you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?”
I look at him in disbelief. My mouth wide open.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I scream. There’s no doubt in my mind that Ty is the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. He slips the ring on my finger.
I get up to hug him and realize that Ty just proposed to me naked. We both collapse on the couch laughing in each other’s arms.
THE END
Gabe held the slender blonde in his arms as they twirled around the dance floor, a smile painting his face for the first time since his sweet Violet passed away two years before. Mason was right. With Vi gone and her killer locked safely behind bars, it was time to get out there again and live again. Enough time had passed, and Vi wouldn’t want him sitting at home, withering away in his thirties.
He’d forgotten the blonde’s name already, his memory slightly fuzzy with the nights drinking to build up his courage. But she was a living, breathing woman, and dammit he was having
fun
. He wouldn’t take her home; he would probably never see her again. But for this one moment, all was bright in the world.
Mason spun past Gabe, who had a gorgeous brunette on his arm, and winked at his friend. The look on Gabe’s face said it all and Mason didn’t need the
thank you
that Gabe mouthed as they flew by. His best friend’s happiness was more than enough.
The chamber orchestra finished their song and the dancers stopped to clap. Live music and dancing were a rare thing in this modern world, but both Mason and Gabe loved the classics. The small group bowed graciously and sat down to play their last song. With a smirk, Gabe recognized the modern piece with a classical spin, letting everyone know closing time was upon them. Gabe wrapped his arm tight around the blonde’s waist and pulled her in for a slow-dance. He whispered his thanks in her ear for a sweet night on the town, and asked if he could call her a private car to drive her home. She blushed, but relief was evident on her face. When he’d first asked her if she would like to join him for dinner and dancing, you could tell this wasn’t what she’d expected. Sitting alone at a table in a restaurant, obviously stood up for a date, she looked like she needed a night on the town as much as Gabe did, and he’d told her so.
She’d been eager to join him, until they’d sat down for their meal in the most exclusive restaurant in Daytona Beach. It was clear from her face that she didn’t believe him when he’d reassured her that he expected nothing in return from her. Now, letting her know in the gentlest way he knew how that he had no intention of bringing her home, he felt the tension drain from her; tension he hadn’t even known was there until it was gone.
“You Gabe, whatever your last name is, are a true gentleman, and I’ve had the best night tonight.” She kissed Gabe on the cheek and rested her head on his chest.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t ever let a man make you think that you are worth any less.” She nodded into his chest.
She was a beautiful woman, but she’d been stood up more than once. She was about to give up on men altogether, staring angrily into an apple pie, when Gabe had sat down beside her and talked her into joining him for the evening. She surprised herself by saying yes and getting up to leave with him right then. She was already wearing her most luscious red dress, so why not? What had started out as the worst night of her dating career had turned magical. She knew that she would leave this man’s company believing in fairytale once more.
The song ended and the couples dispersed for the night. Gabe and Mason waited with their dates for their hired cars to arrive and tipped both drivers handsomely to make sure that they arrived at their homes safely. Gabe tossed Mason the keys to his Porsche 911 and hopped in the driver’s seat. Not much of a drinker, he knew that one was one too many for him. Mason chuckled at his friend and got into the driver’s seat. All that liquid courage had left his dear friend a little giddy, and Mason was glad for it. Gabe deserved a happy life.
Mason guided the Porsche through the streets, heading for large townhome they shared. Gabe hadn’t set foot inside his own home since that day he’d found Violet murdered in their living room, the words “Tiger lover” spray-painted on all the walls. Vi had died because she loved a shifter, and Gabe couldn’t bring himself to walk the halls that once held framed photos of their happy life anymore.
A few blocks away, Gabe could see flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the neighboring houses. The police. Mason slowed the car and turned down an alley, taking the back way to the townhouse.
He crossed a small side-street and discovered that the alley-way was also blocked.
“What in the hell is going on?” said Mason.
Gabe shrugged. His guess was as good as any. Mason pulled down another alley and killed the engine, pulling out his smart phone to check the local news. There was a breaking news bulletin that began playing as soon as he clicked on the icon.
“Breaking news tonight out of a quiet suburb of Daytona Beach. A gruesome murder scene has been found at the home of Mason Kaplan, CEO and majority owner of Kaplan Innovations. Details are sketchy at this time, but authorities are searching for Mr. Kaplan, and a known associate, Gabe Nemr, for questioning. Mr. Kaplan and Mr. Nemr are only persons of interest at this point, though Channel 12 news has learned that Mr. Nemr’s wife, Violet Nemr was also murdered two years ago. This, of course, raising questions as to whether the right man has been incarcerated for Violet Nemr’s murder. The pair are described as—”
Mason turned the phone off, his hand shaking. The camera had panned away several times, showing the front yard of the townhome crawling with forensic investigators and law enforcement. During the reporter’s clip, two body bags had been removed from the residence, and what Mason could see of the scene behind was a grisly scene.
With a calm he didn’t feel, Mason drove the Porsche away from the house, heading for an apartment he kept near his office for emergencies. It was only a matter of time before the authorities would find the apartment. But by then, Mason and Gabe would be long gone.
*****
Stacy watched the furniture van unload the last of its cargo and drive away, leaving the rustic cabin and its new inhabitants to settle into their new home. The cabin, large for the area with three spacious rooms, had been vacant for years, so Stacy had been surprised when a modest sedan had pulled onto the private drive, stopping to remove the battered
for sale
sign at its entrance. Willing to admit that she was quite nosy, but preferring to think of it as friendly curiosity, Stacy had wandered down the trail that eventually led past the cabin to get a look at her new neighbors. She was surprised to see two men, both looking like they belonged in the big city in a flashy car, not Stephenville, Oregon. Population 500, if you counted the entire, unnamed, mostly forested area surrounding the tiny town.
Stacy’s closest neighbor besides the two strangers was Brad, a 37-year-old divorcee who could find darkness on the brightest day. Stacy could only handle so much negativity, so she was hoping that these two new guys were at least cheery. Brad had already called her yesterday, within minutes of the strangers driving down the easement, to let her know that she should avoid the new neighbors until he’d had a chance to “vet” them. She had rolled her eyes when he’d said that. Brad really was trying to be nice, but he only knew how to be Brad.
Stacy headed back down the trail towards her house, skipping in the sunshine and enjoying the beautiful weather and the clean scent of the recently rain-washed forest just beyond her property line. Some might tease her for being too peppy, but Stacy didn’t care. She had a fresh basket of fruit and a homemade pie from her shop in the neighboring city of Pikesville to bring to her new neighbors. The rest of the wide-spread neighbors could be as aloof as they wanted, she had some new friends to make.
She pulled her car next to theirs, her engine knocking loudly as she killed it, and dragged the heavy basket across the seats. The curtain beside the door fluttered as she walked up the paved sidewalk to the door. Before she could knock, a tall, well-muscled man opened the door, a huge grin spread across his face.
“All you need is a red hood and cape and this could be the sexiest fairytale ever written.”
Stacy laughed as another man elbowed his friend in the ribs.
“Mason, mind your manners. We want people here to like us, not to hide their daughters every time we step outside our door.” This man winked at Stacy, her heart fluttering with a million butterfly wings at the sight of him. They walked onto the porch and offered her a seat on the plush swing as they leaned against the porch rails.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” said Mason, grinning at her, completely ignoring the obvious house-warming present she’d brought them. The other man sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His comical expression drew a laugh from Stacy, who was finding the pair much more amusing than she’d ever imagined.
She handed the second man the basket of food. He thanked her and set it aside, looking her over in a way that said he was used to attracting the ladies, but still a consummate gentleman. Stacy stuck her hand out, introducing herself and explaining where her home was.
“I’m Gabe, and I guess you know where I live,” said Gabe. He winked, his tone teasing her. Stacy blushed. He knew the basket was an excuse to be nosy, but she’d lay money that he didn’t mind. He shook her hand.
His grip was firm but gentle, his large hand swallowing hers whole as he held her gaze. His eyes were a deep, dark, chocolate brown, nearly as black as his pupils. Stacy lost herself in those eyes, forgetting that she was sitting with her hand outstretched, even as he let her go. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. These two were trouble, but not the kind of trouble Brad had wanted her to believe.
Ha! Maybe they
are
the kind of trouble Brad is worried about.
Stacy made small-talk with them for a while, noting how they avoided any mention of their lives prior to arriving in Stephenville. Stacy took in their manicured hands and gentle tone and imagined that they were secretly rich, just trying to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life.
The sun started dipping down towards the horizon when Stacy stood to leave. They promised to return her basket, though she insisted they keep it. Mason made a flirty remark about having an excuse to see her again, making Stacy blush again as she climbed into her car and drove away.
What is wrong with me,
she wondered.
I’m like a horny teenager.
Maybe Brad was onto something. Luckily, Stacy didn’t have to drive by his home to get back to hers. Brad had always been a good neighbor, but he was too forceful. What he thought came off as concern felt more controlling than anything, and she wasn’t in the mood for his brand of caring tonight.
*****
Stacy awakened to a knock on her door, not in the least bit surprised to see Brad, arms crossed and a perturbed look on his face standing on her porch. She left the chain secured, not interested in visitors this early in the morning.
“Yes, Brad?”
“I see those two
men
brought back your basket this morning. Am I to assume that you went to their house yesterday, unescorted?”
Was he for real? It’s 2015 for cripes sake, not 1915.
Stacy didn’t answer him, just closed the door softly and padded back to bed. It was 8:00am on a Sunday. Her café was closed today, and only today. She wasn’t going to let sour-puss Brad ruin today for her. She crawled back into bed, moaning when the still-warm sheets wrapped around her bare skin. Brad knocked a few times in quick little bursts, then finally gave up and left. She’d hear about it tomorrow. But for now, she faded into a blissful sleep.
She awoke completely refreshed, several hours later. She rolled over and looked at the clock, surprised to see that it was nearly noon. Usually, Brad attempted to drag her to church, even though she insisted that she found her faith in the beauty and grandeur of the forest surrounding them. Brad had ridiculed her, claiming that she was living a heathen’s existence.
Maybe he finally gave up on that, especially after this morning.
Stacy rolled over and saw the list of missed calls flashing on her cell phone. 51 missed calls in all. She was wrong that Brad had given up on dragging her to town to save her soul. It turned out that she was just a really heavy sleeper.
Oh well, Brad will get over it. I have a life to live!
After breakfast, she pulled on her hiking pants and laced up her boots. The sleek, black fabric clung to her every curve, but still allowed her to move freely. Developed specifically for hiking in the rough climate of the Pacific Northwest, the pants were her favorite hiking accessory. She could jog through brambles without them tearing, yet she didn’t overheat in them.
She put on a ball cap and headed out the door, a camel pack filled with water strapped to her back. She knew these woods like her own reflection and she would only be out for a few hours. The water would be enough after her full meal this morning. No need to weigh herself down with more. Aside from her cellphone, it was the only thing she brought with her.
Walking down the path towards the forest, Stacy wondered about her new neighbors. Who were they really? Why had they chosen Stephenville of all places to settle down? They had told her they weren’t brothers, so what was their deal?
I wonder how much sleep Brad is losing over our new neighbors.
She smiled. Brad meant well, at least she thought he did, but he was just so over-bearing. He was from another planet, where women still needed men to hold their hands and tell them what to do. He wasn’t her type, though he couldn’t seem to understand that.