Floor Time (24 page)

She let go of the ropes, and sat hugging her legs, leaned against the giant tree trunk. Her head pounded with unshed tears and too much beer. A band tightened around her chest, choking her, making her heartache and her mouth dry. She kicked her legs out in front of her and snorted in disgust and self-loathing. But yelped when a hand touched her shoulder.

"Sara," Craig's soft, musical voice intoned. "Hey, here, drink this," he handed her an ice-cold water bottle. She ignored him and stared straight ahead.

"Won't your date miss you," she said through clenched teeth.

"She's not my date," he slid down the tree trunk next to her, dangling his hands between his knees. She grabbed the water bottle from him and slugged half of it back, letting some spill out the side of her mouth, no longer caring how she looked. "Wanna get out of here?" He bumped against her shoulder.

She turned to him. His deep brown eyes were wide and inquiring. He shrugged.

"Or not, whatever." He studied his fingernails.

She stood, drained the water bottle and looked up on the deck filled with partiers. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Jack stride around from behind the house, Heather scurrying after him, trying to keep up. She watched Jack's eyes scan the crowd, land on his friends Evan and Suzanne, but not walking towards them. He kept looking around, ignoring the woman standing next to him trying to talk until she threw up her hands and walked away. Sara smiled coldly. She turned to Craig.

"Yes, please, get me out of here." She put a hand on his chest, and was satisfied to hear his breath quicken at her sudden, unexpected touch. He grinned and took her hand, guiding her towards his motorcycle. She pulled back, then shrugged.

Why the hell not?

As she threaded her arm through Craig's relishing his familiar clean-washed scent a feeling of calm slipped over her zinging nerve endings.

"Sara!" she turned to see Blake on the step. "Headed out?" he yelled, louder than was necessary, Sara thought. She faced him, standing next to Craig's bike as he handed her an extra helmet. 

"Yeah, thanks," she blew him a kiss, and he waved as Jack came up behind him. Sara put a helmet over her hair and Craig adjusted it under her chin. She watched as if from far away as Jack started down the steps but Blake's strong arm shot out and blocked him.

"Not today Gordon," Sara heard her brother growl. "You're lucky I don't kick your sorry ass down the steps and off my property." 

She watched Jack glance down at the arm blocking his way and shoot a murderous look at her brother. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of Evan taking three long steps across the deck to stand between her brother and her lover, facing Jack, pushing him backwards. Rob had positioned himself in front of Blake who tried to follow Evan and Jack. 

Craig gunned the motor so she couldn't hear anything but it was painfully obvious that Rob had some difficulty restraining Blake. The crowd stared first at him, then at Jack who had broken free of his friend's influence and was pointing at Blake. Suzanne and Evan stood on either side of him, holding his arms, until he turned and stomped off to the opposite side of the deck and out of Sara's line of sight.

Blake stood, fists clenched, neck vein popping in anger as Rob put an arm around him and led him inside. She turned, put her arms around Craig -- for safety, she told herself -- and laid her aching head on his shoulder as he put the bike in gear and took off down the dirt drive.

She had the distinct sensation of having ripped a huge chunk of her soul out, leaving it back on the deck when she saw how possessive the woman was with Jack
.

Craig may ease that but he won't ever be what you need.

Enough! You are done with Jack Gordon. Everyone is right about him. Focus on the man who rescued you twice now -- see what he has to offer instead
.

Sara sighed and tried her best to force visions of Jack's face out of her head, the sight of his eyes that night when he pleaded with her to let him get close and not be afraid, that he would hurt her.

Sweat poured off Jack's body by the time he finished an early morning ten-mile run on what promised to be a ninety-plus-degree day. He stood stooped with his hands on his knees in his front yard, surveying the street scene on the muggy Michigan early fall morning, shattered in body and mind.

"Hey Mr. Gordon," the kid across the street yelled. Need that lawn mowed again this week?"

Jack waved at him and shook his head. "Not until it rains a little, but I'll let you know." He had a brief vision of his own father, yelling at him to get up off his ass and mow the lawn again, even after he'd mowed it a few days before. Jack had spent hours staring at the ceiling in his room vowing never, ever be the type of unrelenting, critical father his was. Now look at him, over thirty with not a kid in sight to ruin with his impossibly high expectations.

And who can you blame for that, eh, Gordon?

The thought of his own stupid behavior last week brought chills to his sweat-soaked skin and he stared up at the piercing blue sky to regain his composure. The memory of Sara's gorgeous green eyes filling with angry tears nearly seared him in half, all over again. Even though he had truly been trying to disentangle himself from Heather, she had caught them at a bad moment. Bad timing was the name of his game lately it seemed.

He turned and walked into his house -- the house he'd bought with his hard-earned money, and renovated himself using his equally hard-earned experience on the job with his father as a young man. Anymore it was an empty cavern, mocking him with its lack of a certain female presence.

The night they'd shared in his bed was never far from his mind. He'd felt so content then, better than he had in years. Had convinced himself that Sara would complete his life, could bring out his best as he coaxed out hers, and he was imagining the future with her on his run the next morning when he'd walked right into the shit storm created by his own bad behavior.

The crazy bitch, Heather, he'd picked up in his friends' beer bar would not let go of him, even though he'd only fucked her once. In a colossal fit of bad judgment, he'd reverted back to his old ways in her office at the title company a few weeks earlier.  He'd attended that stupid fundraising thing with her, gotten drunk off his ass, and spent hours wishing it were Sara on his arm, even sending her texts the whole night, before passing out on Heather's couch.

She'd kept at him for days afterward, ramping up the sex talk until he'd snapped. He'd had a frustrating day, felt thoroughly avoided by Sara and had taken the woman, never once picturing any other face but Sara's the entire time. It was the stupidest thing he could have done and he was far from proud of it.

Yep, King Shit of Bad Timing Mountain, that was him
.

He'd tried, wanted to be trusted. Had seen Heather at the party and decided that was the right moment to set her straight.

Jesus.

The hot shower felt great, going a long way to soothing his troubled brain. Jack let the water sluice across his face, and he turned to let it beat a pattern on his back as he recalled the fallout from Sara's brother's party. He and Blake had come within seconds of a brawl, and Jack knew that the man would have kicked his ass, but damned if he would let him treat his sister like some sort of precious jewel, unworthy of Jack's presence. She was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions. Blake's overprotection had reached unreasonable proportions, something Evan and Suzanne agreed with him on, although they had both beaten him around the head and shoulders that night for his behavior even though he'd tried to explain. No one believed him. Suzanne's disappointment had been the most palpable and upsetting.

"Stop trying to prove what an asshole you are, Gordon," she'd said, her eyes bright with angry tears. "Maybe people will figure it out on their own." She'd not talked to him the rest of the night and he'd sat with Evan and stared at a baseball game until his eyes were numb with boredom. Evan had put a hand on his shoulder before he left.

"I'm going to ask Julie to marry me," he said. "But I swear on all that is holy if you don't start acting like a man and not a sex-crazed teenager, you are not gonna be invited much less stand with me. I know what you need Jack. Why you won't admit it to yourself is beyond me. But, keep acting like this and we are through. And that will piss me off so much I may even revoke your Mug Club card," he'd given Jack a fierce hug and pushed him out the door.

Jack had pondered this turn of events on the way home. Julie was a lot like Sara as best he could tell. Fiercely independent, sexy, successful, and temperamental but Evan was not willing to lose her, jumping off the deep end in order to keep her. Going beyond a mere Dom/sub arrangement to actual marriage was a bigger leap than many realized.

Lame excuse Gordon. Listen to yourself. You want control? Then fucking take it from her. Show her how happy she can be, that she can trust you. That you can trust yourself again.

He'd spent the next day enmeshed in work crises and had stumbled in the front door of his house to find Heather, naked, on a velvet blanket on his living room floor, candles flickering, wine open, music playing. He'd hustled her out, amid much whining and pouting. He'd tried to call Sara, text her, send her email, but she effectively ignored him. Her uncommon stubbornness made him insane, and he wanted her even more. He needed to be the caretaker, the Dominant; it suffused his every fiber. She had started to cede that to him, no matter what she said, at that moment he knew they'd never come to terms with their clashing type-A personalities otherwise. She'd struggled like hell against submission but he sensed she wanted it. He'd had plenty of practice sorting out what a submissive needed. Why couldn't he just give in and let it happen?

Jack stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. This called for a large gesture, and he was ready to make it. It was what he wanted and needed to prove it to her -- in front of witnesses. He dressed, called Jason to tell him he'd be about an hour late -- that he had a project he needed to complete. Once he arrived at the office, shopping trip accomplished, the two of them spent the rest of the day working on Jack's power point presentation he was giving at the Stewart all-company meeting, highlighting the progress of his downtown renovation project.

After attending two closings at the end of the day, he'd gone home, changed into running clothes and run until he'd nearly dropped from exhaustion. He'd not gone this many days without female companionship in a while, and was starting to not only wet dream about Sara but daydream about her too. His many attempts to contact her still went unanswered, and the two times he'd dropped in on her office she wasn't there -- or her friends were hiding her, which he wouldn't doubt.

The morning of the monthly all-company meeting dawned bright and clear. Jack meant for the day to be unforgettable. He dressed in his best tailor-made blue suit, snapped his Rolex on his wrist and popped a small box into his pocket before donning sunglasses and heading out into the brain melting heat.

Jack couldn't remember a time he'd been more nervous, and skipped his usual double espresso. He'd had Jason extend an invite to Blake on his behalf and was gratified to see the familiar late model F150 parked in the hotel parking lot where their meeting was held each month.

He waved to Greg Stewart as he entered the building and fielded a few work calls, working his nerve up to go in the huge room filled with milling realtors, title company minions, lenders and others. He hadn't seen Sara's car in the lot, but he knew she'd be along. She usually showed up just in time for these things. Jack took a deep breath, touched the small velvet box in his trouser pocket. Then pasted his smile on and walked into the room.

* * *

Sara ran late, as usual. She'd gone to a six a.m. Bikram yoga session and made the mistake of sitting at her laptop to answer some emails before leaving the house. Caught up in a transaction crisis, she stayed sitting and typing away until nearly eight forty-five. Her phone buzzed and she glanced at the text. Craig. She smiled.

He'd been amazing during the last week after rescuing her from that fiasco of a party. They'd gone for coffee and he had let her snivel her way through an iced latte before taking her hand across the table and telling her that he was sick of talking about Jack, and asking if she wanted to see a movie.

They'd gone to the latest summer blockbuster, shared a bucket of popcorn and she'd enjoyed the hell out of it, letting her thigh rest against his, and his arm across her shoulders. He'd not tried to kiss her or grope her or anything, but at one point she turned to catch him looking at her, which made her blush and turn away.