The Romance Novel Book Club (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

What was in my hand? A tissue? Was I actually having a pity party for a smut book? I checked the cover again. Yep, hadn’t changed. It still read romance novel. Halfway through this book and the only action happening involved at least one unwilling or half-hearted participant. Ugh. I swear I was reading myself in the pages.

Tempted to leaf through the yellow pages for the nearest nunnery to save myself from promiscuity, I set
Rogue of the Long Road
down. What was wrong with me? I vainly dabbed the tissue against my eyes to blot out the tears. I’d chalk it up as PMS.

Except you already had your period last week, dumbass.

Pity Party of Patricia was in full swing. A few nights of meaningless hook-ups, name changes, and falsified phone numbers had pushed me over the brink. The horrifying fact that sex just wasn’t doing it for me anymore came over me.

Sexless and an old hag?

The inner deviant in me ordered my fat ass back to the bedroom for a thorough workout in latex and lube, but I couldn’t get one foot off the couch. Why bother and for what? A few minutes of an orgasm high only to be back in the dumps curled up beside a small battery-operated bed pal?

No, I told myself. No more lonely nights of debauchery luring hot hunks into the back of my car or theirs or, if they were willing, to some rent an hour joint for a fuck fest. I mean, I’d eventually run out of prospects. Who wanted to be the girl that walked into the coffee shop in horror of running into the equivalent of a city bus full of guys she’d banged?

I went to the laundry room to get something washed. Julie wanted me at my best, and I’d neglected domestic girly chores for about a week.

I also hadn’t had a client for my business in a week, and I needed to start putting my name out there. The real one, not the One-Night-Stand-wonder menagerie. Stuffing dirty clothes in the washer while sulking, I paused as I saw something white behind the dryer. I climbed on top and grunted as I reached my hand down to get whatever fell behind. I pulled out a white low cut shirt.

“Just great.” I muttered, noticing a big red wine stain on it. It had probably been soaking in since….

My mind stopped as I remembered the picture on Matt’s phone. I ran to the bathroom, yanking off the shirt I had on and putting on musty wine stain shirt. My hands covered my mouth as I realized what it meant. The picture in Matt’s phone had been of my boobs in this shirt. Normally I wouldn’t think anything of it but my mind wouldn’t shut up.

I should have been thinking ‘
pervert!
’ but I flaunted my boobs at him several times on purpose, even made his hand brush them. Ted had said he didn’t need the job. Then why be at the restaurant every night Julie and I went?

“You stupid, stupid girl.” Somehow I knew I blew it as I raced out into the kitchen where Matt’s envelope still rested unmolested. The scent, faded, still enticed my nostrils to take a whiff as I held it.

It was time for the plunge.

It was time to stop acting like a full-blown idiot and woman up to my mistake. I had walked out and avoided him, not the other way around. Hopefully it wasn’t too late to correct that.

I jumped as my cell phone went off and the envelope fell from my hands. Growling to myself, I snatched it up as I answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Ooo … what are you wearing right now?” Julie’s sultry voice came over the line.

“Pity and self doubt. You?”

“Uh-oh. Sounds like I need to come over with a vat of Häagen-Dazs and Chinese instead of taking my sexy date out to lunch. What’s wrong, Patricia?”

“I don’t know, Jules.” I sighed, sitting on the linoleum floor in the kitchen. “I know we haven’t talked lately about….” I sighed. I had to come clean to my only best friend in the world. “When Ted brought over dinner, he gave me an envelope from Matt. I haven’t had the balls to open it.” The back of my hand moved across my face like a bow on a violin to smear the hurricane worth of tears.

Rock bottom. Game over.

I’d officially gone off the deep end pining for a guy I didn’t even date. I’d run so far from the normal ‘get married and have a dozen babies’ Catholic mentality that I’d become some promiscuous bimbo hell bent on riding any cock that whipped out in front of me.
Slap on that rubber on and try to buck me off, mister!

“I think I’m addicted to cock.”

“Geesh. You make that seem like a bad thing, Patricia. Seriously? Get your head out of your ass. I’m coming over to slap some sense into you.”

She hung up on me. I had to think fast and shake off my blues.

Midol. That would cure my sissy waterfall event. So would ending my chicken shit phase by opening the damn envelope. What was I really afraid of? Rejection? Like I never experienced that in my life?

Yeah, right.

What was so wrong with being thirty-something and not being in a relationship or otherwise? It wasn’t like I’m forty-ish. Not yet, anyways.

“Oh crap. I’m turning my life into one of those stupid ridiculous romance novels! Fuck!” In a burst of fresh tears, I tore open the envelope. Dried rose petals rained down on my clean kitchen floor, and I just sat there with my mouth agape trying to catch flies. I picked up the lone piece of paper and a ticket that came with the withered bouquet.

Sorry,
the note read. The ticket was for a romance convention in
Denver
,
Colorado
along with dried rose petals. I might not like the trashy novels, but he’d taken the time to notice I was reading them. How many nights did we giggle about the books at Ted’s restaurant? Not to mention I always had a book stuffed in my purse.

Right then and there I pitched the biggest tantrum to rival the most well-versed two year old. Brittle petals crackled in my wake, and the Pussy clock on the wall seemed to stop in place to stare at me.

Julie took that moment to come through the door.

Hair a mess and the petals clinging to me in various places, I pouted at Julie as she stood over me with our comfort foods.

“Honey, you can deny it all you want, but right now it looks like you could use a little baloney pony to get your rocks off.”

“I can get that whenever I want!” I screamed at her. “I want what I can’t have, that’s the problem. What is wrong with me?”

“Uh you’re wearing red plaid and fuchsia and look like some bad Mary Tyler Moore episode. You obviously haven’t showered in two days. Yeah, I noticed. And it looks like the Teleflora guy just molested you with a bouquet. Did I miss anything?”

“I’m a big fat loser.”

“Aw, come on. You’re not fat.” Julie smirked at me.

I stuck my tongue out at her. Sniffing my underarms, I wrinkled my nose and got up with Julie’s help. No words were needed as she rummaged through my cabinets, and I got a nice hot shower.

Through lunch and ice cream, I told her about my latest utter failure and the revelation of the wine-strained shirt. She, being a true friend, told me how childish and beyond dumb I was for even acting the way I did. The problem was I couldn’t bring myself to call, much less see, Matt.

It had nothing to do with admitting I was wrong. I could definitely handle that. I was afraid that, since I sat on opening that envelope, Matt had come to the conclusion that I never wanted to see him again. Considering his hell cat ex, I couldn’t blame him.

Could I really see myself settling down? Was it really settling down if I dated someone instead of continuing the revolving sex door I currently had going? Did I hate myself so much that I punished it by constantly trying out various sizes of cock any given Sunday? Was my life nothing more than a frantic penis frenzy?

“Patricia, I love you like a sister. I always have.” Julie shoveled a large portion of noodles in her mouth.

“What if he says no?”

“Then he says no. Honey, you can’t look at my failed marriage or whatever romance novel I shove in your face for the meaning of what a relationship is supposed to be. That’s not how it works.”

“Then why did we start reading them?”

“Because we both needed the laugh.” She smirked. “You can’t tell me
Winter’s Kiss
and Hartley’s ‘oh my gawd, Garrote like totally saved my life even though I’d saved myself a dozen times before’ aren’t a hilarious cliché? You’ve never needed anyone to save you, Patricia. You want someone that can laugh with you and never wants to see you change who you are.”

I fingered the ticket Matt had left me. The reason he’d left on a late flight. Romantic getaway for two but I botched that plan. My mind wrapped around the little things Matt had done for me since I met him. The breadsticks had extra garlic. My pasta was always angel hair whether the menu called for it or not. The same table that kept me away from the heavy flow of the restaurant yet gave me a good view of the ambience within.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, and you’re going to Ted’s.”

I opened my mouth, and she whipped her finger at me to cease and desist all gabbing.

“If you refuse, I swear I’ll buy a dart gun and sedate your ass.” Julie grabbed up her keys and left me to ponder my fate.

Making some hot tea, I curled up on my couch with my steady companion for the past couple of weeks,
Rogue of the Long Road
. The torrid affair between Arielle and Alexei. A story that mirrored my life, if I had been born centuries ago.

Yeah, I was definitely losing it.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Arielle sighed and tied her horse off along the railing. The ride with her father had been nothing more than a lecture on her changing the wedding arrangements. She’d hoped her father would allow her and Pavel to stay at the castle after marriage, but he’d made it quite clear that she’d have to move into the countryside with her husband. That was the last thing she wanted to do. At least in the castle she’d have a place to hide away from Pavel and his cruel intentions. Out away from that, she would have no other choice but to submit to whatever sexual cravings he desired.

She’d only made it halfway through her ride before turning around and galloping home with fresh tears on her face. It stung to hear her father’s low opinion of her. She was sure he’d finish the ride and by the time he came back, she’d be sequestered in her room for the rest of the day.

She knew her father only wanted to hide away his embarrassment. Even at the functions he allowed her attend, the others of noble birth shied away from her as if she had the plague. How could she tell him that she’d rather become an old maid than to be shackled with that pig of a man Pavel? She pushed the doors open to the barn and sucked in a clean breath to call Alexei when she paused at a particular sound.

“Oh Alexei!”

Arielle recognized the voice of her father’s milk maid.

“Zoya,” Alexei whispered. “You must be more quiet or someone will hear.”

Too late
, Arielle fumed. She’d poured her heart out to him yet he bedded the harlot of the castle? Zoya’s cries echoed again across the barn.

“Are you mad? Do you know what will happen if someone should catch us.”

“Tell me this isn’t worth a few scars, Alexei. Surely your mistress will give you mercy if you just touch her as you have I.”

The woman thought nothing of her current lover being punished for his boldness? Arielle’s hands trembled in rage.

“That may be but it is not a given.” Alexei’s tone pitched gravely.

“Oh, darling Alexei. I fear I shall burst if you do not take me now. Do to me what you do to her.”

Arielle fumed, hearing Zoya’s words. Her cheeks reddened at the thought of her name being further dragged through the mud by a man who was to do her bidding. Just as she was ready to catch them in the act and drag Alexei straight to the dungeon below, she paused at his next words.

“No, Zoya. She is not like that. I do not force myself on her, and she is very particular to make sure her privacy remains so.”

“That is not what I heard.”

“Then you heard falsely and we are finished here. I will not have Arielle’s name sullied such.”

“No, Alexei. I’m sorry. Don’t leave.”

“It is just as well, Zoya. They will be back soon, and you are a very enthusiastic lover. What? Why you give me a face? We can finish this another time.”

“No. We finish it now.”

Arielle heard a brief grunt and then a deep groan from Alexei.

“Now, Alexei. Do not lecture me about my boldness if you cannot contain yourself. I have found a use for my tongue to silence it and you’d do well to hold your own.”

It was all Arielle could do to keep lusty thoughts from her mind. She did not need to witness with her own eyes to know the technique Zoya practiced on Alexei. Jealousy heated her skin thinking of the times he rejected her offers to come into her bed. What did he care for her privacy? He was obviously just as rambunctious as any other healthy male, and Zoya certainly wasn’t pure herself if Arielle believed half the staff her father employed.

Unable to tear herself away, Arielle imagined she was the one touching Alexei’s skin, tasting his flesh in the most decadent ways. She could feel his hands upon her, nursing her aches away and inching closer to her core. Every soft grunt that escaped his lips made her shudder and become aware of her own arousal. Though the door to the stall blocked her view, the sounds amplified. The slap of skin on skin and the heated play of two lovers rushed out. How she ached to have him enter her and send her to a place she’d never visited. To see the stars shine on the brightest day. To feel that one final release.