Stranded (7 page)

“That’s not where you napped?” he asked.

“No I was in the attic room,” she said.  “I can’t sleep in the sheets after him.”

“Okay that was a buzzkill,” he said with a wink.  “Neither can I.”

Foley took her by the hand, down the stairs and out of the house.  He had a helmet for her on his bike.  She savored the sight of him mounting the bike.  Naomi followed him, inching up to him as close to him as she could.  On purpose she pressed her breasts against the hard expanse of his back.

Chapter Six

With pride and without a care of which neighbor might be gawking, Naomi rode with  Foley to Mario’s, just about the only place in town to have dinner in Orange.  Gliding down the winding drive to the bottom of “the hill” her new found love for traveling by bike was re-affirmed.  She could not believe she had not experienced a Harley before. It was total passion.

She knew as she and Foley entered the restaurant that the diners there probably already heard that Daryl Pollard was spending the night in jail.  They also probably caught wind that she, a Wellington, was riding all over town with some biker dude.  Small town gossip was more efficient than the internet and maybe as quick.  The quiet that followed their entrance into the restaurant confirmed that news had indeed spread. Foley checked in with the bartender since there was no hostess up front.

“Sit anywhere, Russ?” he asked with a bashful grin on his face.

“Yes, you dog,” replied the bartender with a twinkle in his eyes.

Foley laughed and said, “Thanks.” 

Being the possible subject of small town gossip excited Naomi.  Her family was the murmur on people’s lips strictly because of wealth, but never due to down-home dirt. Being singled out ironically made her feel like she was finally one of the crowd.

The crack of balls on a pool table stirred her.  She wanted to play. Foley got them each a draft beer and they moseyed over to an empty table, watching and waiting till the pool table was vacant, and Foley was fed.

“I am sorry baby, but I am famished,” he said with a grin.  “Somebody I know wore me out last night. I am spent.”

Naomi warmed with an intense, brief blush.  She could not wipe the smile from her face.

“What are you laughing at over there?” he asked, reaching underneath the table top to poke her.

Naomi giggled as she evaded his tickling. It felt so wonderful to experience a little joy.

They looked over the laminated menus and made their food choices quickly.  Foley ordered a rack of ribs and Naomi had the chopped salad with no onions, buttermilk dressing on the side.

“Dainty,” he teased.

But Naomi was no fool.  She was not about to eat heavy at this moment in her life.  While they were awaiting their food, she stole a moment to check in with her children.  It was loud with the country music playing and the game of pool so she went back to the ladies’ room.

Despite the crap that was going on with her soon-to-be ex-husband, Naomi was intensely grateful the kids were having such a good time.  It was no small blessing that they were loving working a horse farm/vineyard with their cousins.

She ended the call, checked her face and hair in the bathroom mirror.  She was pleased with how she looked.  She could not be happier she was about to be joining a gorgeous man for dinner and hopefully a game.

Naomi’s mid-section gripped, her knees buckled as she stepped into the short hall outside the ladies room.  As she leaving the restroom, a man was walking into the men’s room.  It was the same man in her dream whom she saw during her nap.  The rake-thin, toothless hillbilly.

Naomi gasped, her voice catching in her throat as she tried to shout for Foley.  The hillbilly grinned a dark, blood-curdling smile.  It was the epitome of evil, so cold that Naomi could hardly comprehend it.  Even her husband who was a son of a bitch, didn’t touch this level of darkness.

He said nothing but apparently thrilled in her horror.  She groped the rough planked wall, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as he finally disappeared behind the men’s room door.

Naomi made her way to Foley who took one look at her and demanded to know what was wrong.

“It’s him!” she cried out.  “Him!”

“Him who?” he asked as he took hold of her shoulders.

“The hillbilly,” she gasped.  “The scary hillbilly.”

Foley raised his brows.  “We’re all pretty scary I guess.”

“The guy who was in my house,” she managed. “Men’s room.”

Foley abandoned her and marched to the men’s room.  Naomi was close behind though he told her to stop, to stay.  His bicep bulged as he pressed opened the door.  He drew a gun from his boot and cocked it. 

Naomi waited as Foley inspected the bathroom.  He went in tense but quickly returned, much more relaxed.

“Baby there’s no one in here,” he said.

“Well maybe he’s in the ladies room,” she said and before Foley could react, she charged the ladies’ bathroom.

It too was empty.  Naomi was hysterical. This had not been a dream.  She had not imagined him.  Naomi knew she what she saw. 

“What you need,” said Foley slowly, “is to go back to the table.  Set down.  Drink your beer and discuss in very graphic detail how you and I are going to spend the evening.”

Naomi closed her eyes, upset. 

“Come on now,” he said. 

He gently prodded her body towards their table and eased her to her chair.  He sat across from her and looked her adamantly in the eye.

“Naomi, look at me,” he said, without a hint of teasing in his tone.

She lifted her chin so the she and he were eye to eye.

“We have glossed over the fact that the man you’ve been married to asked me to kill you,” he said.

Naomi had not seen those words coming.  She reeled as though she had been struck.  It was awful to hear the cold unfiltered truth coming out of his mouth. 

“We have been having fun and games because of it and but the truth is it hurtful scary stuff.  Weird shit is bound to be happening,” he said.

“Are you saying I am losing my mind?” she challenged.

He laughed softly and touched her hand.

“Not exactly but you have to be under amazing stress even if I am here to make sure nothing bad will happen to you,” he said. “It’s gotta take its toll.”

Naomi was pretty sure that was not what was happening.  Pretty sure, but not a hundred percent sure.  What if he was right? What if the man she had been seeing was nothing more than a disgusting figure of her imagination?

The food arrived.  His ribs, her salad. Naomi no longer wanted to be good.  She cut her eyes to the waitress who brought her her food.

“Can I have a shot of tequila?” she asked.

Foley’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Hey,” he said to her and then to the waitress,”Cancel that order.  Bring us both an iced tea.   Sweet for me, unsweetened for her.”

When the waitress departed, he gently lectured her.

“Much as I would love to co-pilot you through an episode of letting your hair down, slamming back to-killya is not the way,” he said.

He loaded his fork and fed her a bite of salad.  She hadn’t remembered the dressing being quite so delicious.  He made her smile.

“Okay you win,” she said.  “I think you’re right.  The part about how I just kind of dismissed the fact that Daryl Pollard wants me dead.  I should have been working on a divorce today. Not napping.”

“As I remember, you earned your nap,” he said with a devilish grin.

Naomi felt herself color.  Just even the slightest hint at sex with him, and she was back there, remembering every blistering moment.  But then current events brought her back.

“If he’s got fake documents, he’s been working on taking my assets for some time,” she said.  “He’s been planning this thing for a while -”

“Tomorrow,” said Foley calmly, quieting her.  “At this moment, he’s sitting in jail. John said he’s not letting him out. He’ll just play dumb if he’s got to.  But he promised me, not until tomorrow.  I already decided my buddies are going to house sit so that asshole can’t come home. We’re packing just enough to stuff to get him by and moving him out.”

Naomi sat across from Foley admiring everything about him.  He looked like a knight with his longish dark hair framing his face in soft layered curls. He wore a wife beater which was ironic because he was just about as gentle as anyone she ever met.  His body was perfection and power with his broad shoulders and his tight, cut arms.  His biceps flexed as he rested his elbows on the table to eat.

Naomi was crushing on him big time.  It had to be more than the fact that he rescued her in a bad moment.  He was, so far, a great guy.  He washed his fingers up with the wet nap.

“What’s say you and I play that game of pool,” he said with a gleam in his eyes.

“But the table is not free,” she smiled.

“It’s about to be,” he said with a wink.

Foley slid from his chair so smoothly.  He sauntered over to the pool table where two men were playing, and two men were sitting on the table chatting.

She watched but could not hear as he engaged them.  One guy hopped off of the table’s edge and sort of assumed an offensive stance. But Foley was clearly bigger and the other guy knew it. Standing up to him the guy saw that he was no match for the handsome biker.  Not one of the men was as tall; their heads barely cleared his shoulders.   They backed down.

As soon as they hung their cues up, Foley bowed towards Naomi, very pleased with himself.

“M’lady,” he said, kissing her hair once she was near.

Naomi was facing towards the bar in the direction of the bathrooms.  She was softly swaying in his arms, flirting.  She looked past him and caught a glimpse of someone leaving the bathroom.  Again, there was the guy who had been in her house and outside the ladies room.  He tipped a phantom hat, smirking triumphantly.

Naomi pushed on Foley’s body to turn him around. And that fast the guy was gone. Vaporized.

“What baby?” he asked her.

Naomi decided not to mention that she continued to see the mysterious smiling man.  He had to be a specter of stress like Foley said. So she covered herself.

“Oh I was wondering if you wanted another beer?” she fibbed. “You know, while you’re playing pool.”

“No I am good,” he said.

He bent over the table and broke the rack scattering the balls with one swift, sure, stroke. The crack of the break coincided with a crack of thunder. His head whipped around.

“Was it supposed to rain today?” he asked with concern.

“Darling this is the south.  We get thunderstorms in warm weather,” she laughed.

“I am not crazy about riding in the rain.  Especially up that hill of yours,” he said.

“We can leave now,” she said.

She said it but she didn’t mean it.  She was disappointed she wasn’t going to get to play with him.

“No, no,” he said.  “Let’s play.  It’s already raining.  We might as well stay here.”

The favorite watering hole in Orange suddenly got cozier.  The heat flowing between them while the rain drummed on the roof made her forget about the glimpses of the mysterious hillbilly who was literally haunting her.  A loud clap of thunder shook the restaurant. 

“Oh it is going to be a good one,” he said, still making shots.

“You going to let me play or am I going to sit here and watch?” she teased.

“Oh where are my manners,” he said.

“Well I asked you to break,” she said.  “I am fine. It’s a pure pleasure.”

He cozied up to her.

“I am a fool.  I would love to sit back and watch as you lean over this table,” he flirted.

“But you have to miss one for real, not just pretend, or I can’t in good conscience play,” she said.

“You don’t have a bad conscience, do you?” he asked with a wicked tone. 

Naomi was being sucked right in.  Every little thing he did she found so erotic.   He spoke slowly and languidly but she was quickly being turned on.

“No my conscience is just fine.  I don’t feel bad one bit,” she lisped, so aroused she could hardly speak.

Warm replays of their night before spun in her mind.  Shadowy, erotic, stirring images that made her tipsy with desire.  Foley Lardner was everything her husband was not.  In less than twenty-four hours of meeting him, he had become everything she had ever wanted, but just didn’t know it.  With all the money and privilege and relatively easy life, she had no idea until she met him how much was missing. 

What was even more delicious than the recaps playing through her head was the notion she was probably going to make more with him in just a little while.  Foley caught her looking at him.  The expression on his face looked like how she felt.  Adoration.  She knew it was the heat of the moment.  But she would take it.

“You’re not playing much pool,” he sensually admonished.

“I can’t seem to focus,” she confessed.

“I guess we will have to come back sometime and try this again,” he declared.