Once Upon A Killing (A Gass County Novel Book 2) (5 page)

“Nah, I’m not one to probe,” he said humbly. “Your life is yours, and with that comes your secrets. Just seeing the little indent in the skin on your finger makes it obvious that ring must have sat there for some time.”

Maybe you should
, she thought,
it might be to your benefit
, but she knew his judgment was accurate, as the finger felt a bit more narrow and bony when she ran the top of her thumb across it.

“I’m thirty-four now,” she said low. “This part of my finger has been bare for three years already, but I guess six solid years of ring bearing give proof that can’t be easily hidden. On the other hand, I don’t want to hide it, nor should I.”

“Not at all,” he swallowed the very last drop of beer running slowly down the inside of his glass, ending on his warm tongue. A wish for the beer to cool down and kill that determined flame inside his chest failed miserably. Instead, it escalated, throwing more gasoline straight into a fire when he witnessed his own hand move across the table, like something detached from his body, until his fingers touched the same spot of her hand as she had recently. Her skin felt smooth to his touch. “I’m really sorry it happened, Christine.”

Her hand didn’t move under his soft examination. In fact, it seemed to relax and flatten even more under his very sizeable stroke.

“I think the hardest part was to take the ring off, as if it was the final thing I had left of him. That band was supposed to stay on until the end of our days. Sadly, his days ended before mine did, and for so long I didn’t want to give in to that thought. Holding on to something imaginary, I guess, not wanting to acknowledge what life would be if I let go of him completely. Definitely. I was afraid of my own mind, afraid I’d lose my memory of him,” she whispered, staring at their hands on the table.

“I wanted that wedding band to brand me deeply for the rest of my life, because that’s what we promised each other, and how we wanted it to be. To sum it up, Wayne, I’ve had a hard time letting go. You can’t possibly imagine and understand how much I loved him.”

His hand lingered on hers and he watched with great interest, and in all honesty shock, how his thumb started rubbing her hand ever so slowly. Ever so softly. He let his fingertips gently slide across the smooth skin of her hand.

“But please, don’t pity me. It’s been three, no almost four, years since his passing and I’m on much better terms with it now. Moving here, then starting my own business have both taken a lot of time and I’m happy to say, kept me and my mind very busy. Anyway, let’s stop talking about –”

“Hi, Wayne, can’t believe you’re here and not at Hardy’s tonight with the rest of the pack. Even heard Rick put in a new flat screen TV just for the big game next week.” A gum-chewing young blonde, with way too many inserts in her push-up bra underneath an indecently low-cut shirt had suddenly come up to wait their table, twiddling a long lock of hair between her sparkly fingernails.

“Chelsea, this is Christine,” he nodded across the table, then noticed he was still holding her hand in his and lifted it hesitantly, then placed it back down on his thigh, rubbing it nervously.

“Hi.” That was probably as much of a conversation as she’d get out of that waitress tonight, she thought, and downed the last of her now cold coffee and smiled out the window before she stood and pushed her arms through the sleeves of her brown biker jacket.

“You leaving?” Wayne stood up simultaneously, bringing up the wallet from his back pocket and placed a few bills on the table.

A few of those going straight down Chelsea’s pockets for sure, or maybe into her forced cleavage
, she thought and answered, “Yeah, it’s been a long day. In fact, it’s been a long week and I’m tired.” She stared down at the small watch decorating her left wrist, something to look at when her eyes got used to not seeing the wedding band anymore. “And it’s already nine. Geez. I need to get home.”

Throwing the green handbag over her shoulder she pushed back the chair underneath the table, said thank you to Wayne for getting the coffee, and nodded politely to Chelsea, who still only had eyes for Wayne and was still twiddling with the same lock of hair between her fingers. She passed them both quickly before the cool evening air touched her face and she pushed the heavy wooden door open to the freedom of nightfall.

It’s all good,
she thought,
this feeling is normal. It’s very normal. Will has been gone for a long time, and it’s okay to think Wayne is handsome, attractive, hot, and that I want his hands all over me.
Her mind was running on overdrive as she firmly pushed a hand into the top of her hair, pulling it hard backwards, until a prickle of pain spread across the bottom of her scalp.
Good
, her mind deliberating,
maybe the distraction of pain can kill some of these… feelings.

She hadn’t moved yet. Still standing underneath the large bending arms of the trees, she closed her eyes and slowly let her hands drag down the sides of her face, stretching her facial features, before she released a long sigh.
And I kissed him. And I liked it. I’m so sorry Will
. Churning, churning her mind went around.
Maybe it’s just hormones, but for the first time in four years I’m feeling… turned on, hot, and bothered. And it’s not by you, it’s by him
, her mind whispered into the universe.

“You okay?” The warmth of a large hand pressing down on her shoulder made her jump right out of her shoes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just… just, you know, took a little breather. Thought you’d stay inside and catch up with Chelsea?” Although the temperature outside was on the cooler side, her face tingled of heat. She prayed he wouldn’t see it. The streetlamps weren’t that bright after all.

He eyed her suspiciously and gave her a wry, almost seductive smile, the uneven smile ever so enticing. Apparently the light from above wasn’t dim enough. “No,” he answered. “She’s too young to hang out with. Maybe she wants to, but it’s not going to happen.”

“Oh, okay. Anyway, I need to be getting home, pronto. Thanks for tonight, Wayne, and I’ll see you Monday for the lunch delivery to the station. Bye!”

She was already a few steps away down the sidewalk when she noticed a man’s figure in her periphery, catching up with the quick strides, then she felt his beaming heat as his arm brushed against hers despite the thickness of their sleeves.

“So, you’re running out on me? Not that this was a date or anything, but at least let me walk you home. Live far?”

“Afraid you don’t have the stamina to walk me to the door, Mr. Fitness?” she smiled.

“Oh, I have plenty of stamina. Believe me.”

That comment could have had dual meaning, he thought. But since she kept smiling and looked straight ahead instead of at her feet, he must be in the clear. But how the hell would he know? He wasn’t a woman, and women were confusing as hell; saying one thing, but almost always meaning something different.

“Tell me, Wayne,” she said. “What made you become an paramedic? Good-looking, brawny, and self-assured, shouldn’t you be more like a police officer or a firefighter? Someone with more… authority?”

His hands were down deep into his pockets now, and with a deadly gorgeous smile, he shook his head.

“Haven’t I heard that one before. What’s wrong with being a paramedic?” He threw the question back at her.

“Oh, there is nothing
wrong
with it. Curiosity is what it is. What made you chose your profession? You seem way too… buffed up and cocky for that kind of job.”

“Ha!” he laughed now, “is that what you think I am? You don’t even know me.”

Their pace had slowed somewhat and Christine’s shoulders went up in an ‘I don’t know’ kind of action.

“Many years ago a friend of mine, Jefferson, oh by the way he might be someone else you’d successfully sell your lunch delivering service to. He works a bit from home, and now when his wife is pregnant he’s not allowed to cook meat at home anymore. Anyway,” he continued, “where was I, oh yeah, many years ago Jefferson’s brother was in car accident and unfortunately he didn’t make it out alive, and it was then something happened inside me. Like something, or someone, shot a lightening flash up in my brain, telling me what to do. Guiding my steps, directing my path. You can’t imagine the horrible screaming that came out of people’s mouths that day around the scene of the accident. People I didn’t even know had feelings cried. Strong men cried. Women leaned against the walls of the shop where Jefferson’s brother’s car was smashed up against, and Jefferson was mute. He was mute for weeks after. It was then, right there, in all that mess, that I felt strong. Strange to think that way, but I felt like I could’ve thrown that truck away from that smashed up sedan, and lifted his brother to safety. We all knew he was dead, yet I felt I could help. If I can’t save someone, then maybe I can ease someone else’s suffering a bit. I don’t know really… but it’s been that way ever since. It’s like my calling, or something.” He shrugged slightly eyeing the moon as they walked side by side. “Deep enough for you? Am I still just a self-absorbed prick?”

“I never thought you were a prick. Just very confident. And confidence is nothing bad. In fact, like it.”

“So, you, a baker? No college or law-degree hiding within what seem to be a very interesting mind and package?”

“I would rather attest your conjecture of a fictitious schooling by wielding my extraordinary vernacular, demonstrating the inaccuracy in which you are deeming my talent. Not yet have you tasted the talent resting in these hands,” she held them out, palms up. “Nor will your prospect of doing so transpire, when using not only false, but rude assumptions of a woman’s handiwork to diminish talent. You, my friend, have created a negligent mind.”

“Fine. You went to college. Spare me the fancy words. What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? Alright, yes, I’m sorry. Just didn’t think a plain baker ever paid enough attention to the books to earn a higher degree.”

She stopped. “Watch that negligent mind of yours, Mr…?” She stopped suddenly looking at him.

“Matthews. Wayne Matthews,” he answered with that same knee-wobbling smile.

“Mr. Matthews, guard your mind before it takes off and grows assumptions again, causing nothing but trouble. “

“Seriously, you can talk normally to me. Don’t have go all Jane Austen on the conversation.”

Her smile crept back up her face, and she started walking next to him once more. “A man who knows Jane Austen, that doesn’t happen every day either. Good job for knowing that name.”

He smiled back and kept walking, his stride in tune with hers.

“So, bakery owner. That’s pretty big. Owning and running a business like that. Good for you.”
This time his words didn’t offend her enough to make her stop, only make her head shake a little in the chilly evening breeze.

“Mr. Matthews, I do, or do not. There is no trying.”

“What?”

“Oh, come on. I’m trying to steer off the Austen era and be on your level. Master Yoda? Star Wars? In the swamp? Planet Dagobah?”

“Who is growing a negligent mind now?” 

She didn’t apologize, but continued to stare into his eyes. It felt like minutes went by, and by just watching her in the quietness of the evening he knew she was nothing like the women he’d met before. Not at all. There was some other spice hiding within, something hot and foreign.

“Using those brain cells of yours to figure something out?” she smiled, her voice almost purring low. If they’d been inside a club or on a date he would’ve definitely taken that tone of voice for seduction. “Are you thinking about taking me home, pretty boy?”

“Pardon me?”

“No need to repeat the question. It’s quiet enough around us to hear a needle hit the bricks on the street. You heard me.”

Amazed. Surprised. No dumbfounded.

“Well… maybe.”

Slowly he watched the tip of her tongue wet her upper lip, before her soft, plump, sugar tasting mouth closed to a smile.

“You’d have no idea what to do with me, Wayne.” Her step erased the distance between them, making the fabric of their jackets brush against one another. “This mind,” the top of her index finger tapped lightly on the caramel colored strands of hair melting down around her face, “creates ideas not suitable for everyone.”

“Try me.”

Her eyes trailed across his face, from his eyes to his lips, and for a short second he thought she would kiss him again the way she’d snuck up on him in the bakery, but instead she smiled and whispered ‘good bye’ into the crack of his slightly opened mouth, and was gone. It wasn’t until he’d watched her walk with great long strides away from him, and disappeared around the brick building of the church that he noticed he had held his breath, which made him lean back onto the cold wall of Lowry’s Offices and pant heavily; sounding like nothing less than someone having had the best and most exhausting round of hot sex in tangled up sheets.

Chapter Six

“It’s been a few weeks now that we’ve seen each other, right?” The sweet aroma oozing off the cookies baking in the oven seemed to find its way through the entire bakery. A place he had visited often over the last two weeks, trying not to get too attached to this mesmerizing creature that was Christine, yet too deep in with both feet and with no tantalizing wish to get a paddle and find his way out of this ocean of new feelings. Had he had seen other women? Yes, he’d seen other people, chatted fleetingly with other women while sitting perched up on one of the barstools at Harold’s watching a football game on TV and drinking a beer, but he had not ‘seen’ other women, as in sleeping with them. Which he found rather amazing. He looked, talked, and in rare events he may have squeezed boobs too close on a tight dance floor, or grazed nipples practically handed to him, but something inside him told his dick to keep itself inside his pants, close to his own body. He wasn’t sure why, because he sure as hell had had the opportunity to put himself between a number of sheets to feel the warmth of naked women.