He shut the water off and turned, setting his hands on her hips. “We were happy to do it. It was fun, actually. We don’t get much chance these days to hold actual tools.” Lifting one hand, he brushed his fingers over the side of her neck. The skin there was a little tender; he’d bruised her that morning, when he’d bit down as he’d come. It was pretty nasty, but she’d had worse. And it had been intensely erotic that he’d been so overcome with their sex that he’d lost that control. “I’m sorry about this.”
She closed her hand around his. “Don’t be. I’m okay, and I liked that you needed to do it.”
His brow furrowed a little, and he traced the bruise again. “Do you? Like that, I mean.”
She blushed and dropped her eyes, but John caught her chin on his finger and lifted her head again.
“It’s okay if you do, baby. I just want to know what you like.”
“I don’t. I don’t like to get hurt. I…like passion, and that’s what this is. It’s what we always are. I like what we do.”
He grinned and bent to touch his lips to the corner of her mouth. “I like what we do, too.”
Katrynn thought that he’d make the kiss more serious, but instead he stood straight again. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
She stepped back, her nerves suddenly jangling. “That’s an ominous way to start a question.”
“Sorry.”
“Go ahead.”
“In February, when Calhoun was here, your throat was bruised. Did he do that to you?”
She flinched and would have drawn away, except that John caught her hand. As far as Katrynn was concerned, the name Atticus Calhoun should never have utterance between her and John. She opened her mouth to say so, but instead she said, “Yes. But…”
“Was it like this?” He brushed her bruise again, his fingers like feathers.
“He’d say it was. John, I don’t want to talk about this.”
He pressed on. “What do you mean, ‘he’d say it was’?”
“I mean that I didn’t tell him that I didn’t like it. I have trouble with that. I didn’t tell him, and he thought I liked it, and he did it more, and I still didn’t tell him. I faked it and got through it, and I’m fucked up like that, which you probably have figured out, so can we please stop talking about this?”
She yanked her hand from his grip and stalked up the hallway, pausing at the bedroom—but didn’t want to be in there. She felt anxious and embarrassed and vulnerable, and the bed was too scary a place just at the moment. So she went to the living room and sat down in her armchair, where she was guaranteed to have some space.
Still wearing nothing but the red towel, John came into the room and crouched before her. “Don’t run off. You just told me a bunch of shit I need to process.”
“You shouldn’t have asked at all.”
“Why not? I love you, and I want to know. And I told you that you didn’t have to answer. You’re saying he was hurting you, and you don’t think he knew that?”
“He’d have no reason to know. I was more afraid of the awkwardness, so I didn’t let on.” God, this conversation was embarrassing.
John picked up her hand and held it gently. “Do you fake it with me?”
“No! I’m not just saying that—I don’t. I swear.”
He smiled. “I know. You know how I know? Because I pay attention. I feel what your body is doing, and I know. I’m betting Calhoun knew, too. But even if he didn’t, either way, he’s a selfish prick.”
Of course he was a selfish prick, and she was an idiot for falling for his charm. Not news, and not something she wanted to relive with John. “Why does it matter? Why did you need to bring that up?”
“Because the bruise I left reminded me of why I punched that asshole. And now I’m doubly glad I did it, even though it tore things up at the shop.”
“You punched him because of my bruise? But you didn’t know he’d done it.”
“Unless you’re doing UFC on the side, it wasn’t the kind of bruise you just get randomly. But I think I punched him because I fucking hated his hands on you at all. The bruise was the final straw. Why are you looking at me like that?”
She was grinning. “That’s such a caveman thing to do.” But she had entertained precisely that fantasy: that she’d mattered enough to him that he’d felt driven to bash in the face of someone who’d hurt her.
He grinned back, sheepishly. “I don’t like it when people I care about get hurt.”
John was a pretty enlightened guy, overall, but there were several little things like that—like the way he called her baby, and the way he sometimes said
That’s my girl
in intimate moments—that she knew she should think were overly patronizing. But she loved them all, and she wasn’t even ashamed of it. She liked feeling protected.
She loved that he’d started an epic brawl for her.
Her first year at college, she’d dated a guy in her dorm, and she’d thought it was serious. He was the first guy she’d ever brought home to Welcome. That had been a disaster—her dad had been home, and her mom’s distraction at the time hadn’t left, and if Katrynn had known that, she wouldn’t have brought Steve home. He’d thought the whole arrangement was hot, he’d thought her mom was really hot, and things had gotten decidedly weird between them after that.
But a few weeks before that, at Halloween, they’d gone to a costume party at a local pub. Katrynn had dressed up as Aphrodite, in a one-shouldered toga. Steve had refused to dress up, but he’d worn some stupid hat and called it a costume.
While they’d been standing near the bar in the crowded pub, a group of guys had walked by. One of them had stuck his hand inside her toga and grabbed a handful of boob, then walked on. She had been too stunned to react before the guy had moved on.
Steve had laughed. When she’d gotten upset, he’d told her to lighten up. She’d ended up doing nothing about it except feeling violated and alone.
John wouldn’t have laughed. Katrynn’s grin grew as she imagined how he would have reacted. The boob-grabber wouldn’t have laughed, either. Or, probably, chewed for a few weeks.
“I love you. I love you.” Awash with that emotion, Katrynn scooted off the chair and onto John, pushing him to the floor. She straddled him and leaned down to kiss him, claiming his mouth the way he so often claimed hers. The towel slipped, and the only thing left between them was the thin cotton of her boxers. She flexed on him, savoring the hard press of his cock between her legs.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered when she backed off a little to take a breath.
“What?”
“Baby, this is the first time you’ve ever come at me.”
She was always too insecure and afraid of rejection to initiate. Before this moment, she couldn’t remember the last time she had—with anyone. She’d asked John up on New Year’s Eve, but she’d been drunk. And he’d made all the actual moves.
Now insecurity made her falter again. “Is that okay?”
“Sweet Jesus, yes. It’s hot as fuck.” He relaxed on the floor and smiled up at her. “Do what you want with me. I’m all yours.”
~oOo~
“Is there always sand? Everywhere?” Katrynn shook out her bag over the trash bin and began refilling it with her life’s essentials: wallet, tablet, sunglasses, regular glasses, contacts kit, makeup kit, keys, phone.
Smiling over his coffee mug, John gave her a little shrug. “It’s a beach house. There’s always sand. Everywhere. Especially in the summer.”
“I find sand in some very inconvenient places.”
He set his empty mug down on the counter, then came up behind her and slung his arms around her waist. “Why are you so grumpy this morning? It’s your birthday. It should be a good day.”
She relaxed into his embrace and laid her arms over his. “It will be a good day. I’m not grumpy. I’m itchy.”
That provoked a low, sultry chuckle at her ear. “I will scratch any itch you have, baby.” She felt his tongue trace the edge of her ear. “Just say the word.”
Before she could say any word, John’s phone buzzed on the counter next to his mug, and Luca’s face popped up on the screen, with a text message superimposed on it. Releasing one arm from her waist, John leaned over and picked up the phone.
“Shit.” He released her completely and read the text, then tapped out a reply. “Okay, rain check on itch-scratching. I gotta shower and get to the office. Sorry, baby.”
“Is it that Taylor-Whatsit job?”
“Tyler-Orvo. And yeah. Luca got us bumped up on the meeting schedule—to this morning. We gotta be downcity in a couple of hours. I’ll be done in plenty of time for tonight, though.”
Tonight, they were going into Providence for a fancy birthday date: dinner and the symphony. She couldn’t wait for him to see the dress she’d bought. She couldn’t wait for him to tear it off her later, either. She had excellent new lingerie for that part.
“Okay. I hope the meeting goes well.”
“God, me too. Winning this bid could solve a lot of problems. I’m gonna jump in for a quick shower. Will you still be here when I get out?”
She had the day off; the shop was in great hands with Grace, so Katrynn took regular days off now. “Sure. I’m not going to Bev’s until about eleven, so I have plenty of time.”
“Excellent.” He kissed her cheek and set his phone back on the counter. “Won’t be long.”
He started stripping his clothes off before he got to the bathroom, and Katrynn watched him, smiling to herself. If he hadn’t been in a hurry, she’d have joined him, even though she was already showered and dressed for the day.
Instead, she rinsed out their coffee mugs and the few dishes from their light breakfast of English muffins and jam. Behind her, his phone buzzed again. Thinking it might be Luca again, and John might want to know right away, Katrynn turned and looked more closely than she normally would have. He’d put the phone down with the screen facing up, so she didn’t even have to touch it to see.
A woman’s face was on the screen. A woman Katrynn didn’t recognize. A gorgeous woman, with long, richly dark hair and deep, dark eyes. Her lips were pursed as if waiting for a kiss—not a duckface; too truly sensual to be a duckface. Across the top of the screen was her name: Giada.
An unfamiliar, gorgeous, sensual woman with an exotic name had texted John.
The text was an image file, and John’s phone hadn’t yet locked after Luca’s text. Watching her hand move as if it were attached to somebody else, Katrynn reached out and touched the thumbnail.
The file opened and filled the screen. The same woman, Giada, but this time, she was topless. She had little American flag stickers over her nipples like pasties, and she was holding little American flags, the kind that came stapled to a stick, one in each hand. Over the image were the words
Sto venendo! ;) 30 giugno! xo
That had to be Italian. An unfamiliar, gorgeous, sensual, Italian woman had sent John a topless selfie.
Katrynn didn’t speak Italian at all, but she understood the language of topless selfies.
The bottom dropped out of everything. Her head and heart completely empty, Katrynn picked up her bag and left John’s house.
~ 17 ~
John came out of the bathroom, and his little house felt strangely quiet. He’d lived alone most of his adult life, and had learned that there was a difference between the feel of a space that was simply quiet and one that was truly empty.
“Katrynn? Baby? You still around?”
She wasn’t. Her bag was gone, and the dishes were stacked on the counter above the dishwasher. He hoped there hadn’t been some kind of problem at the shop. It was her birthday; he wanted her to have the good day she had planned: have lunch with Bev and the girls, spend the afternoon hanging out at their pool, then a swanky evening date. He smiled—he had a great present for her.
He picked his phone up from the counter. Normally, if she needed to leave him a note or something, she’d text him, but there was no alert on his home screen for a new text. But the clock on the screen reminded him that he had to get his ass in gear, so he set his phone back down and hurried up to the loft to get dressed.
He’d call her later and make sure everything was okay.
~oOo~
“Damn, bro. I think we got ‘em.” Luca stood on the sidewalk in downtown Providence and loosened his tie.
“It was a good meeting, but I don’t want to get too cocky about it. We won’t be the lowest bid.”
“No, we won’t. We almost never are. But we’re local, and we’re good, and they were impressed.” Luca turned serious. “We need this one, John.”
“I know.” John pulled his phone from his pocket to check his messages. Luca did the same.
“Hey—I know you’ll be back here tonight for Operation Perfect Birthday, but you want to get lunch before we head to the Cove? I could use a beer.”
John scrolled through his missed calls. The list wasn’t long, just a couple of foremen, probably checking in before lunch. Nothing from Katrynn. “Yeah. I need to be back in time to run by the job sites, but I could eat.”
Luca slapped him on the back. “I’ll take half the sites today. We can have two beers.”
Grinning, John nodded. “Yeah. Let me just send Katrynn a text.”
He opened his text messages, meaning to open his thread with Katrynn. Seeing Giada’s name near the top, he frowned. He hadn’t gotten a text from her in a couple of weeks.
It had taken her a while to get the message that their fling had been just that. Even when he’d told her he was seeing somebody and didn’t want to play around via text and Skype anymore, either, she’d been slow to get it, insisting what they were doing was just harmless fun. So he’d been ghosting her, and she’d seemed to get the message at last.
Wait, though—he
hadn’t
gotten a text from her in the past couple of weeks, so why was her name so high on the list?
He opened the thread and saw that the most recent message was one he hadn’t seen, sent earlier that day. A photo. A naked photo.
There was text over the photo.
Sto venendo
meant
I’m coming
—complete with double entendre. They’d had a running joke about that while she’d been helping him get better with Italian.
30 giugno
:
30 June.
Despite his attempt to cool things off between them, Giada had sent him a naked selfie to let him know she was coming to the States at the end of June.
“Damn, look at her.” Luca was at his shoulder. “Who is she?
Sto venendo…
that’s…that means…Dude—you got a side piece? You?”
John ignored him; his brain was trying to work out when he’d gotten the text in question and how he hadn’t seen it before it had moved to read…
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck me.” He dialed Katrynn. Luca gave him a curious look, but John waved him off and walked several steps away.
He got her voice mail. As soon as he could, he said, “Baby, call me. It’s not what you think.”
“What’s going on, little bro?”
John raked his hand through his hair. “She’s a fling I had in Italy. We fucked around online a little after I got back, but I cooled it off when Katrynn and I got together.”
“That doesn’t look cooled off. Is she coming here?”
“She’s got a band—they were trying to get a US tour together. I guess they did. Fuck, I think Katrynn saw this.”
Luca’s only response to that was a long, low whistle that said everything it needed to.
“Bev’s. She’s spending the day at Bev’s.” John scrolled through his contacts. “Fuck! I don’t have Bev’s number!”
Luca held up his phone. “Chill. I do.” He pressed his screen and then handed the phone to John.
“Hi, Luca. What’s up?” Bev answered.
John strained to keep his voice at a normal level of volume and intensity. “It’s John, Bev. Is Katrynn with you?”
There was a pause, and John nearly shouted before Bev finally answered, “No…she called and cancelled our day. She said she had a headache and was going to lay low. I figured she was trying to save your night. Is she okay?”
Their night. Their big date. For her birthday. Jesus fuck.
John thought it likely that Katrynn was very much not okay. God, she’d just finally really relaxed into what they had. She’d finally let go and believed in them. But with the way her family was, she’d probably leapt to the worst possible conclusion.
She’d left without a word, and now he couldn’t reach her. He didn’t think there was any question that she had leapt to the worst possible conclusion.
“Yeah…yeah. I’m sure she is. Do me a favor, though. If you hear from her, tell her I need to talk to her.”
“Sure…John—you’d tell me if I should be worried, right?”
“Of course. Thanks, Bev.”
As Luca took his phone back, he asked, “What can I do?”
“I need to get back to the Cove. If you can take the job sites, I’m going to track her down.”
“You got it.” Luca put his hand on John’s shoulder. “She lives and works in the Cove, bro. She won’t go far. Maybe she just needs a minute.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” If so, she’d already had her minute. He needed to talk to her.
He tried to call again.
He left another message.
~oOo~
She wasn’t at her apartment, and she wasn’t at the bookshop. Grace had expected to hear from her but had not. He left several more messages, knowing the futility of it but unable to give up the possibility that she might be calming down with time. He went back to his place, on the off chance that she might have returned; she had not.
Katrynn wasn’t in the Cove, and she wasn’t answering her phone or her texts. So while he was home, John took the time to change out of his suit into more comfortable clothes, and then he drove to Connecticut. If she hadn’t gone home, maybe at least Dana would talk to him.
Her CRV was parked on the gravel drive, and John’s head swam with relief. He parked behind her, pulled a small box from the glove compartment, and headed across the yard to the oddball house.
Dana came out the front door with two bottles of beer in her hands and met him at the foot of the porch steps.
“She doesn’t want to see you, John.”
“What she’s thinking—she’s wrong. I need to talk to her.”
Dana sat down on the steps and held up one of the bottles. “I’m going to let you in. But sit with me for a minute first.”
Impatience and irritation with Dana swirled in with his nearly frantic need to see Katrynn, but he took the bottle and sat on the step at her side.
For a maddeningly long stretch of seconds, Dana sipped at her beer and stared out at the collection of oddities that made up her front yard. At last, she said, “Katrynn’s dad and me, we’re not very good at keeping things steady. You’ve probably figured that out.”
Boy, did he not want to talk about Dana’s marriage right now. John said nothing.
Unbothered by his silence, Dana went on. “Bill—that’s her dad—he’s a wanderer. A vagabond. I am, too, in my way. If we hadn’t had kids, maybe we could’ve wandered together more. I don’t know. But I wanted kids, and we had Evie and Katrynn, so I stayed put and found different ways to wander. I change things up a lot—change jobs, change friends, move the furniture around. Whatever. I like things to be different as much as they can be. It’s not that I get bored. It’s that I get lost, like I get numb and lose my way when everything’s always the same.”
John clutched his beer bottle until his fingernails were white. He wanted this daft broad to shut the fuck up and let him see Katrynn, but he was afraid if he cut her off she’d send him away.
She still hadn’t looked his way, but she had more story to tell. “Katrynn’s not like that at all. She hates things changing. She used to get so mad at me when she came home from school and found things changed around. When she was nine, I redid her bedroom while she was at camp—oh, it was so cute. She came home and was just…well, lost. She stopped eating, stopped talking, everything, until I put it all back the way she’d had it. I had to repaint and everything. That room still looks about the same now, to this day. Even though she doesn’t live here, I haven’t changed it. I guess I’m afraid she’ll get lost again if I do. I think that’s why I stay put, even though she’s out on her own now. I try to give her what she needs. I don’t do a great job, but I try.”
John had perked up when Dana had mentioned Katrynn, but he was not seeing the point, interesting though it was. He’d figured out that Katrynn didn’t like change; they’d been together for months now. He wouldn’t have said it rose to the level of a compulsion or anything like that, but she had a way she wanted things. She liked routine, and she was calmer in it. He knew this, and he’d already guessed that it was likely a reaction to her unusual upbringing.
“Dana…”
She gave him a surprisingly sharp look. “I’ve got a point, and you need to hear it. You can give me a few minutes. She’s inside, and she’s not going to climb out her window and shimmy down the drainpipe. She’ll be there.”
Feeling himself smile a little, he nodded, took a swig of his beer, and let her continue.
“As different as she is from her dad and me, I thought Katrynn understood us. Her brother never did. Evie fought us about everything, all the time. Even while we were doing everything we could to encourage him to be who he wanted to be, he hated where he came from. I couldn’t be anybody but who I was. I don’t even know how to try to be anybody else. Bill’s the same. So we lost Evie. But I thought Katrynn understood. I thought she had a happy childhood, overall.” She let out a sad, quiet laugh. “My baby girl is thirty years old, and I’m just now seeing how much I was wrong about.”
“I’m sorry, Dana. I appreciate what you’re saying. But I’m not sure I see your point yet.”
“My point, John Pagano, is that I want my girl to be happy. She loves you, and I think you love her.”
“I do.”
“She needs what I couldn’t give her. She needs a nest. Someplace to settle into. Someone to settle down with. A place she knows is always there.”
That was what he needed, too. And goddammit, what else could he do to show her that? Why was it him that had to prove it again and again? Would he be paying for that first mistake for their entire lives?
No. No, he would not be.
“Thank you, Dana. Can I talk to her now?”
She nodded at the bottle in his hand. “Finish your beer. Her room is upstairs, first door on the left.”
He chugged the rest of the beer and handed the empty back to Katrynn’s mother.