Paradise Found: Cain (Paradise Stories Book 2) (18 page)

“Oh no,” he clarified. “This time, I intend to remember.”

“If I remember correctly, you were ready to prove a few things to me.” I raised an eyebrow in implication. In our first meeting, he was eager to support his claim that he was a big man, all over, but I didn’t need him to prove anything to me in this conversation. I already knew the truth of his body. He was large - everywhere.

He didn’t follow my attempt to return things to playful. He leaned forward again and grew serious. He averted his eyes as he stared at the grained lines of the wooden bar. My name was called by another worker, and I excused myself when Cain didn’t respond to me.

As I passed by him on my way to Shannon, the hostess, Cain’s hand shot out and circled my wrist. I stopped in my path, but didn’t turn to him. His hand loosened and his fingers tenderly dragged up and down the sensitive skin of my forearm.

“I’m here to prove a few things again.” It wasn’t merely a statement: it was a warning. I scampered off to help Shannon before my heart could hope in anticipation at what his words possibly meant.

No room at the inn was an understatement. The place was busy. Sofie explained to me previously about the First Wives Club, which I encountered on my original stay here. There also seemed to be a wedding rehearsal celebration, and a few sets of couples smattered here and there in the wine bar. Sofie worked swiftly and efficiently, distributing drink orders, logging in food orders, and passing out warm welcomes to all. I could compare her to a whirlwind of activity, but through it all she was calm and reserved. Her shyness was endearing and people didn’t make demands of her. This wasn’t Vegas: this was Napa. The vibe was sedate, restful, and pleasant.

She worked until midnight then had to help with some close down, like cashing out the register and stocking for the next night. Through it all, I sat at the bar and watched her. She was so beautiful. Her red glasses and twisted hair made her look studious, respectable, and not at all what I would typically attract. The loud divorcees in the corner, or the women in clothes so tight there was nothing left for the imagination, were the types that gravitated toward me. Sofie was quiet and her flouncy skirt and red t-shirt reminded me of when I first met her. Red was her color. It was bright, but calm. Sinful, but seductive. I liked it on her, but I liked it more so off of her.

It wasn’t until she finished working and turned off the final lights that I broke the news to her.

“I don’t have a room.”

She stared at me as we stood in a darkened entryway.

“What?”

“I don’t have a place to stay,” I clarified.

“You came all this way without a reservation?”

“Well …” I smiled slowly, “I was hoping to stay with someone.” Her eyes opened wide, and I held my breath. We’d had a fight, but I didn’t want to argue with her. I fought with everyone else in my life.

“My grandparents live here,” she stated. Her voice held an edge of surprise to it, as if the realization that she’d have a male roommate for a night was scandalous.

“Well …” I wanted to remind her we were married, and then it occurred to me, we hadn’t told anyone. We weren’t pretending, but we weren’t public.

“I could sleep on the floor,” I added. I don’t know why I offered. I couldn’t be in the same room with Sofie, without wanting to touch her. Each time she passed me tonight, as she poured drinks near me, when she smiled shyly at me, I’d reach for her. Sometimes I would get a soft rub of skin, other times I missed the target. A snake to prey, I wanted to strike out and touch her in the most delicious ways.

She stared at me for a moment then motioned her head for me to follow her. She didn’t say a word as she entered the private door under the staircase and made her way down a hall to a door that looked similar to all the hotel rooms above. Opening it, I found her personal chamber. A room that was feminine and petite. Her bed was only a double, the space around it minimal. She had an attached bathroom. The room was a mix between hotel and personal. Pictures lined the dresser. The open closet door exposed hanging clothes. Boxes littered the floor within the closet space.

She quickly reached for the door and closed it, shutting out her clutter, but a look at the desk displayed a pile of textbooks and an older desktop computer. Headphones lay across the keyboard. Binders of work were collected on the floor beneath the desk.

“I’m sort of creatively messy,” she giggled. “I’ll be right back,” she stated then left me alone in her room. I noticed her suitcase was open and clothes spilled out. I set my own bag down near hers then stared at the juxtaposition between the two. Mine was leather and zipped up tight. Hers was fabric, open to exposure, including a lacy red item peeking out from under some jeans. I reached for the silky material and slowly tugged it from its hiding spot. Holding before me a camisole that was practically transparent, I choked then jumped when a hand reached around me.

“I’ll take that,” she whispered, balling it up and shoving it back into her case.

“What was that?” I demanded, despite her avoidance in looking at me.

“Something special,” she said, then forced inside the case any items sticking out the edges and closed it.

She stood and stepped around me, causing me to turn and notice a pile of pillows and an extra duvet.

“I’ll change first,” she spoke softly, before exiting into the bathroom and shutting the door. I couldn’t believe she actually wanted me to sleep on the floor, but then again, I had offered. I stripped down to my boxers, laid the duvet on the floor beside the bed, and punched the pillows for comfort, before lying back to stare at the ceiling. The light went off, and I heard Sofie climb onto her bed before I saw her peek over the edge.

“You okay down there?” she asked, with no implication that I should join her in the bed.

“I’m fine,” I huffed. We lay in silence for a long time. I was listening for her breathing to soften, as a hint to her sleeping.

“I’m so tired,” she said quietly, “but I can’t sleep.” Exhaustion laced her tone. I’d seen her wince once or twice while she worked and I asked her about it. She brushed it off but suddenly seemed willing to share.

“I worked so hard today,” she began. “I helped move barrels. I carried cases. I stocked shelves.” She paused. “I ran through the vineyard.” I waited a beat, thinking she had more to say, but she didn’t offer anything else.

“Why?”

“I just needed to do ... something,” I heard her shift on the bed, but I couldn’t see her in the dark room. Before I could reply, she spoke again.

“I’m still angry at you, Cain,” she sighed. “But it’s sweet that you’re here.” She paused again. “Why do you have to be sweet while being the devil?”

I laughed bitterly. Sweet didn’t describe me. Devil, I deserved.

“I don’t try,” I chuckled. “It just happens.”

“The being sweet or being a devil?” The sheets rustled above me, and her head now rested on the edge of the mattress.

“Both. Neither.”

In the pale light that came through her window, I could see a sharp sparkle to her crystal blue eyes. It was as if the stars were reflecting down on me, but only a few could watch over me.

“My father was a tough man,” I stated, turning to gaze in the direction of the ceiling. “I guess when you’re the spawn of the devil, you don’t have much choice but to act like him, too.”

“My father was a sweet man, but he was weak,” she sighed. I lost sight of her as she rolled away from the edge of the bed.

“Tell me about your grandparents.”

“I owe them everything. Them and my uncle, so to speak. And my great grandfather, too.” She sighed but a shaky voice continued. “They would never understand what happened. They would never forgive me. I’m a good girl, Cain,” she whispered. “I don’t do reckless things like marry a man in twenty-four hours, then stay married a year without knowing it.”

My heart clenched at the anguish in her voice.

“My great grandfather: he’s so old school. If he found you in this room, the shock might kill him. My grandfather, he’d disown me.”

She was silent again, and it never occurred to me that Sofie would be at any risk with her own family. I didn’t think it particularly unusual to be in a woman’s room, but for Sofie, this experience was all new. While I didn’t like to think other men had been here, it never crossed my mind that others might not. Used to coming and going as I pleased, I didn’t account for women with my father, who paid for my first experience to find I’d already lost my virginity on my own. I also didn’t bring women home, so it wasn’t an issue.

“What about your grandmother?”

“She’d take one look at you and love you, while she hated you.”

I laughed, uncertain why I found that humorous. “What does that mean?”

“Judging you from the outside, she’d think you were a lost soul, and you needed protection. She would want to love you, help you. But she’d also hate that you looked hard, like you could hurt me, and she’d recognize that you could.”

I needed a moment with what she said.

“What about you? First impression,” I asked, a slight smile in my tone.

“I ... I hate that I knew I could love you. Not to help you, but to help me. I knew you could hurt me, but I wasn’t able to deny the attraction.”

“Help you?”

She was silent. For a second, I thought I heard a sniffle like she was crying. I should have sat up to look. I should have checked on her, but I was afraid to move. I worried any sudden movement would stop her from opening up to me.

“I ... I don’t think I can say,” she sniffle-laughed. She was crying and I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to slither up the bed, and take her in the best way possible, to make her tell me how she felt. But the truth was, if I knew her feelings, and they didn’t match mine, I wouldn’t be able to handle the words.

“Sofie, sweet apple, tell me.”

“I’m not the right girl for you, Cain. I’m foolish to believe I ever was. I’m not like you. I’m not like her…”

“Who’s her?”

“Malinda,” she said, sounding exasperated.

“I didn’t sleep with Malinda,” I sputtered.

“Recently or ever?” she asked instantly.

“Do you really want an answer?” I asked, uncertain why she cared, but then again, I knew why I cared about the mysterious Jacob.

“Never mind. You just answered.” Her voice was so soft; I hardly heard it. The shaky sound convinced me that more tears fell. My fist clenched and banged lightly on the floor. The conversation was veering off in a direction I didn’t wish to discuss.

“Recently,” I offered. “I haven’t slept with her recently. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but once I discovered you were back from Italy in January … I’ve been waiting.” If I wanted her to trust me, I had to give her truth. “I want you to know that I’m clean. It’s been months since I’ve been with anyone. I’m sorry for being with someone other than you. You’re the only one I want.”

She didn’t answer me, and I waited an eternity of minutes before I called her name, breaking the deafening sound of her silence.

“Go to sleep, Cain. I’m tired,” she said with a stifled yawn. It didn’t sound real, but we were used to pretending with one another.

Eventually I slept, although I’d been restless. Sobs choked me as I tried to contain them from his admission of sleeping with someone other than me in the last year. He was a man with strong desires, but I had them, too. I just didn’t intend to follow through on them randomly. I’d already made that mistake once. With him.

The sense of panic the following morning was unexpected. When I heard the flush from my bathroom and then saw Cain enter my room in tight, navy blue boxer briefs, my breath hitched at the sight of him. He was tattooed glory with that angry snake coiling across his chest, then slithering and swirling down his right arm. The tongue flicked out of the open mouth at the base of his arm. The telling words on his left arm stated his commitment to his brother. All marks were in the traditional dark ink. He had no color on him unlike his brother, Abel, whose bright aquatic motif was beautiful and brilliantly matched with his blue eyes.

Cain caught me staring at him and he paused at the foot of my bed.