Brush Strokes (7 page)

He found what remained of his shoes
and picked them up with two fingers. The black sodden pile a few
feet away might have been his shirt, but that he’d leave
behind.

They didn’t speak as Tanya moved from
her closet, where she retrieved a faded backpack, to a dresser
still standing unmarred in the corner. He kept his back to the
studio, his bulk blocking the way back in. As he’d already
suspected, she didn’t keep much in the way of valuables. What items
she did stash into the bag went in because of their sentimental
worth, he’d bet.

Tanya brought some clothing to her
face, winced after inhaling them, but stuffed them inside. She
walked toward him, a shirt outstretched in her hand, a moment
later. “This should fit you. I’m sorry about your
stuff.”

“
Thank you.” He didn’t know
what else to say.

He pulled on the shirt, ignoring the
faint burnt aroma coming from it. All of her clothes would need dry
cleaning. An inventory of lost items taken and submitted to the
insurance company, assuming she had one. Hell, she might not even
want to consider living in this place any more.

If her mind worked like
his, she was inundated with a case of the
what ifs.
If a fire started on the
second floor could so easily reach her downstairs apartment, what
if she’d been trapped inside…what if the alarm failed to ring…what
if she’d been sleeping…

Joe shuddered to think about how bad
it could have been.

Tanya stood in the middle of what was
left of her living room slash bedroom, the bag hanging from
listless fingers. She looked up at him, her lips trembling. “I’m
ready, I guess.”

She looked so torn, so at a loss as to
what to do next, as if putting one foot in front of the other was a
command she didn’t know how to get her body to follow. Instead of
pulling her into his arms in a fierce hug, he dropped his shoes to
the floor and slipped them on. That accomplished though, he made
his way to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist. She
didn’t appear to notice when he took the backpack and slipped it on
his shoulder. Tanya kept one arm across her chest, her other hand
holding her trembling chin as if stopping a scream of frustration
from breaking through. He gave her a brief tug and she gathered
some momentum to follow his lead.

They made it to his condo in silence.
Other passengers on the train gave them wide-eyed stares, but
thankfully, none commented on their stench or state of
dishevelment. He watched her carefully, ready to offer himself in
any way she needed him if the horror of this evening caught up to
her and she went into meltdown. But not Tanya. Not his
brown-skinned goddess. She stood stoic and regal and beautiful.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she mourned in silence. Some
internal pain he would hopefully never understand made her shudder
on occasion, but she kept her spine erect and faced forward until
they reached their stop. Even the couple of blocks they walked went
by without ceremony. The moment they crossed the threshold and he
flipped on the lights, however, her wall crumbled.

Some instinct forced him to turn, to
drop the bag onto the floor unheeded and enfold her in his arms.
Some urgency kept him pressed against her as her legs gave way.
Some sixth sense gave him the words to murmur against her hair, the
kisses to sweep over her smooth skin and the ability to be her
strength when she had none to spare.

“
This day is almost over,”
he said, brushing her forehead with his lips. “When the sun rises
tomorrow, you’ll pick up the pieces from today.”

“
Will I, Joe?” Her arms
tightened around his waist.

“
You will because you have
to.”

“
It’s like a bad dream. And
then I wonder if I’m being histrionic over
things
. But then I think about all of
the work, the years of getting just the right supplies, some of my
photos…my memories.”

Her voice trailed off. She’d been
speaking so softly, he wasn’t certain if maybe she’d just lost
steam or gathered her energy to say more. When the silence
stretched on, he decided now wasn’t the time to pursue this topic.
She needed rest.

He shuffled toward the bedroom;
trapped in his arms, Tanya followed suit. After only a little
prodding, once there he managed to coax her into the attached
bathroom. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” he said
pointing to the living room. Damned good thing the couch slept him
so well. Not like it would be the first time he took advantage of
it. A large pizza, a few beers and a made-for-television movie
combined with his worn, second-hand couch were better than any
sleeping pill ever invented.

He waited until he heard the gentle
sounds of the shower running before retrieving her bag and placing
it on the bed. The sheets were newly laundered. Fastidious by
nature, no clothing was strewn about to embarrass him. He did grab
a new shirt and exchange it for the one he wore. He shimmied out of
the smoky jeans, folding them into a stack he would dump into the
laundry basket in the bathroom later. Padding to the living room in
the clean shirt and boxers, he pulled the door closed behind
him.

By the time Joe placed a
comforter on the couch, he heard Tanya moving in the bedroom
beyond. After shutting off the last of the lights, he settled
himself in the soft embrace of the well-used furniture, the
emotional drain caused by the day’s events finally catching up to
him. Now that he had a minute to reflect, he knew without a doubt
after about three seconds he would sleep like the dead. Closing his
eyes, he wished her a silent good night.
Sweet dreams, baby
.

Something—someone—soft moved next to
him. His heavy eyes fluttered open.

“
Tanya?” He couldn’t see
shit. How much time had passed? Minutes, maybe, but it felt like
hours. His grogginess testified to the fact that his ass had been
knocked out.

“
Go back to sleep,” she
whispered.

The evening flooded back in a rush and
his heart pumped faster. “Is everything okay?”

She spoke tentatively. “I don’t want
to be alone. Can I sleep next to you?”

“
Of course.” Joe shimmied
closer to the padded couch back. A king size bed waited about a
hundred feet away from their current location, but something about
snuggling with her on the couch suited him better.

Tanya smelled like soap and
heaven. Her curves molded next to his like pieces of a jigsaw
puzzle. He draped a loose arm over her waist, but tightened his jaw
when she moved closer. The plump curves of her delectable butt, the
innocent wiggle of her hips teased his cock into awakening. No
matter how many times he tried to tell himself
down boy
, the damned thing insisted
on making its presence known. If she cared though, he’d never know.
Tanya’s breathing eased into a steady rhythm, the tension in her
body fading as the minutes passed. At last certain she slept, he
let himself drift away too. Not before one last thought stole into
his mind.

He could enjoy doing this with her for
the rest of his life.

Chapter Six

Tanya wanted to lay curled up here
forever. The comforter smelled so good, the pillow beneath her head
soft and welcoming. Without opening her eyes, she recognized the
unique scent of Joe. The combination of his soap and his familiar
cologne wrapping around her and filling her senses until her mind
flooded with memories of just him. His kisses. His touch. The way
he studied her like she were the model and not he. If only she
could replicate the fire in his eyes when he did that.

Fire.

Her eyes flew open, a well of tears
forming before she could recall them. None fell as she blinked them
back.

No, she would not do this. She would
not lay here and wallow. If she expected to move forward, tasks she
didn’t have the energy for yesterday would have to be accomplished
today. After a cup of coffee, she’d head back to the apartment and
start the slow recovery process. No matter how painful it was to
think about her stuff, what Joe said yesterday would keep her
going. She and Joe were alive. Her neighbors were alive. There was
a lot to be grateful for.

Speaking of, when had he brought her
back into the bed? Her fingers bunched into the comforter still
tangled with her limbs. Although she distinctly remember sleeping
most of the night with him on the couch, at some point he must have
carried her like a stuffed burrito back into the
bedroom.

He kept things tidy in here. Real wood
furniture occupied the floor space. A single, simple painting hung
above the headboard. Without a doubt, she lay on his throne. The
large bed took up most of the remaining space. Anyone who walked
through the bedroom door knew immediately what function this room
served. It was a man’s lair meant for sleeping and
loving.

She struggled to sitting and forced
away some of the sleepiness. Sunlight filtered into the room at
full throttle. It had to be well after nine, an unheard of
awakening time for her.

That’s when she saw the little square
of paper on the unrumpled pillow beside her. Curious, she picked it
up and scanned the scrawl. Even as she read his words, the message
telling her he’d left coffee brewing and a bagel waiting for her,
the scent of the brew drifted to her. He’d gone back to her
apartment, hoping she didn’t mind if he started some of the clean
up.

She supposed it was kind of sweet. He
gave her a place to sleep, a shower to use, the comfort of his body
next to hers to ward off bad dreams. Now he stuck by her through
the worst of it. Joe was a good guy and it shamed her that months
passed and a disaster had to strike before she recognized it. Maybe
the sexual tension she’d been toying with went beyond the physical.
Isn’t that what he’d said yesterday? Time to stop making what was
happening between them just about sex and perhaps, just perhaps,
see if it went any deeper.

By the time she got to her apartment,
the coffee and bagel long since consumed, she’d changed and
unchanged her mind over a dozen times. Wasn’t there some sort of
ethical consideration in all of this? Kind of like doctors and
patients, or maybe, priests and nuns?

Climbing the short stairs, she
snorted. The right to that argument went out the window the minute
she’d given him a hand job. And somehow she seriously doubted that
kind of thing went on in other workplaces. Or at least, they
shouldn’t. Oh, for heaven’s sake, what the hell did she know,
anyway?

She pulled open the door to the
apartment building and almost staggered back. The stench of smoke
clashed against fresh air seeping inside.

A man on the stairwell looked at her
with sad eyes. “It’s better to leave it open,” he said in a thick
Spanish accent. He carried two large garbage bags in his hands, his
dirt-smudged face a story on its own. She nodded and looked around
for something to use to prop it open. Someone’s burnt detritus,
ironically a warped metal trash can, sat in the corner. She dragged
it over and wedged it in tight.

Turning around, she noticed the large
black bags sitting next to her front door. Four of them. How much
of her belongings had been reduced to this? Her heart hammered as
she pushed against the scarred wood. Already in motion, another one
of those hated bags in his hands as he made his way in her
direction, Joe lifted his chin. “Good morning,” he said
softly.

The tenderness in his voice, the
gentle caress of it almost made her throat seize up. A reply barely
scraped past her lips. “Morning.” She looked beyond him, her mouth
parting in surprise. “Oh, my God. Thank you. When did you get here
to have done all this?”

“
I wish more of it could
have been saved.”

“
So do I.” She shrugged,
still at a loss for words.

He’d done so much, she doubted there
was much left for her to do. The larger items like her furniture
remained, but anything small enough for him to carry by himself had
been removed. “I’ve had your clothing taken to the dry cleaners,
already.”

“
Joe…” she said shaking her
head. Really, this went beyond her wildest expectations.

“
I left your undergarments
in the drawer,” he added hastily. “I wasn’t trying to invade your
privacy, really. Once I got started, things just kind of got moving
and I’m sorry—”

She cut him off by pressing a finger
to his lips. Her gaze moved from his eyes, wide and
almost-panicked, to his mouth. Lifting herself on tip-toe, she
touched her lips to his. “Thank you,” she murmured. She kissed him
again, but this time his mouth made demands. He devoured her
hungrily, as if they’d been separated for years instead of
hours.

The back of her mind screamed that
this wasn’t the time, but her body? Her skin tingled, a healthy
flush zeroed in between her legs and encouraged her to go for
broke.

Maybe it was time to tell him about
the conversation she’d been having with herself about them as a
couple. A distant ringing broke her thoughts, though.