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He’s got the skills to please most women for a night, but will they be enough
to convince the classiest lady he’s ever met to let him be a part of her future,
especially when she’s determined to be independent and free?
She’s finally ready to be free.
Aspiring author Beth Berne has spent her life faithfully taking care of
others as part of a picture-perfect life on the sunny West Coast. It’s been a
rewarding life, but also all-consuming. She has traded weekends and
evenings of writing for grading student work and supporting her husband’s
career. When her husband cheats on her with a younger woman, she uses
the end of their 30-year relationship to transform her life. She takes early
retirement, sells the house, and moves from San Diego to the outskirts of
Santa Fe to write the stories that have lived in her imagination for years. To
succeed as a writer, she’ll need to learn to put herself and her dreams first,
something she’s never been able to do for long.
He’s finally ready to commit.
Contractor Chris Johnston, or Can-Can, as his buddies call him, has
enjoyed women all his life, as long as they don’t expect anything beyond a
good—and brief—time with him. He keeps his independent life simple and
as drama-free as possible: running his business, hanging out at the club,
riding his motorcycle, checking in on his mom, sisters and daughter a
couple times a month, and taking care of his dogs. When a classy, smart,
silver-haired writer moves into his neighborhood, he’s suddenly wondering
whether his life is simple or simply lonely. To convince Beth to give a
bearded, blue-collar biker a chance at something more than a good time,
he’ll need to learn to put her first, something he’s never truly done for
anyone.
Wild Love is a sizzling, low-angst, stand-alone romance featuring two
mature, intelligent people in their 50s, who unexpectedly find themselves
falling head-over-heels in love with their opposite.

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This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events and places are fictitious. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2022 by Selene Grace Silver. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, printed, or recorded,
without the prior written permission of the author/publisher.

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 Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two
Chapter Three

Chapter Four
Chapter Five

Chapter Six
Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

About Selene

Also by Selene

Excerpt

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 Chapter One

SHE STUDIED THE VAST Pacific stretching out toward the horizon where
the water and the sky merged in a hazy blur of blue, the ocean curving out
of sight. Beth had called this place home all her life, and part of her was
definitely going to miss it, but the sea was not enough to hold her here. Nor
the ashes of a failed marriage or a job she’d grown weary of doing. She
knew she’d been lucky to live by the ocean, but the desert called to her soul,
and like the Kokopelli playing his flute of joy, trading old songs for new
songs, she was trading the sea for the desert. She was exchanging her past
in sunny San Diego for a better future in Santa Fe. A fair exchange because
moving also meant following her childhood dreams at long last.
Beth approached the hostess stand and waited for someone to come to
seat her. She propped her large sunglasses up on the top of her head and
took in the view, something she wouldn’t see again for some time. Near the
shore, the deep, teal-hued sea was dotted by white boats moving through
the waves, like a scene from a painting. Lighter, faster sailboats eclipsed the
large, luxury yachts, some anchored under squawking seagulls floating on
the breeze overhead.
 She loved the sea, especially on days like this in which the mist burned
off early, leaving the blue and green colors of the sky and water so vivid
that looking at them filled her with optimism and joy. The world felt bright
and bold, full of energy and possibility. She credited her current mood to
the place even more this morning, knowing she was beginning a whole new
phase of her life, having discarded all the things burdening her for the last
several years.
“Beth! Over here!”
Beth scanned the brunch crowd and found her friends Penny and Adriana
seated at a table against the railing with a prime view of the sea. She
stepped around the approaching server, pointing at her friends with a smile
to indicate she’d found her dining partners.
Penny and Adriana jumped up, each coming around the table to hug her,
even though they’d seen each other a few days before on the last day of
school. They were touchy-feely friends, so she was used to their hugs, but
today’s were extra tight because it was their last time together before she
headed off to start her new life. Aside from the view, these two were the
only regrets she had about leaving.
“Tell me you are going to miss this view and the fish tacos,” Penny
ordered, pouting at her as they each took their seats, “and then run back
home to be with us.”
“I’m going to miss the view and the fish tacos,” Beth agreed. She reached
across the table to clasp her friends’ hands. “But I’m going to miss you two
even more.”
“No crying!”
Adriana used her napkin to dab at her eyes as she shed the very tears she
was insisting not be shed. She was prone to crying whenever the subject of
Beth’s move came up.
“We’re not the ones crying,” Beth teased.
“I’m aware.” She hiccupped. “I was trying to command my own
emotions.”
Penny put her arm around Beth’s shoulders.
“I don’t know whether to be sad or jealous of you. Retirement, divorce,
moving away. They could either be good things or bad things.”
Beth flagged the server to come take her drink order. She decided to
splurge on a Bloody Mary, so she ordered one with spicy tomato juice.
“They are good things.”
While she waited for her drink, she held up her hand and ticked off the
benefits.
“No more evenings or weekends spent grading student work. No more
district professional development. No more cooking, cleaning or doing the
laundry for another person. No more mortgage. No more crowded
freeways.”
“But aren’t you going to miss the sea?” Adriana grew up in the land-
locked Midwest and moved to southern California for college, then stayed
after graduation. She claimed she would never live more than ten miles
from the coast again.
Beth looked out over the ocean she’d known her entire life.
“Of course. And I will come back to visit. You can’t get rid of me.” She
turned back to her friends. “But I have always felt Santa Fe and the
Southwest desert spoke more to my soul. Whenever I’m there, I feel a
certain…peace…that I don’t feel here.”
Adriana sighed. “It’s the same for me being here by the sea.”
 Penny grinned at them. “You two and your connections to nature. Give
me a crowded city full of skyscrapers, millions of people bustling about, the
best shopping in the world, top-notch live entertainment, and I’m happy.”
“So why don’t you live in New York?”
Penny made a funny face. “Pete will never leave the San Diego area
because his family is here. As long as we’re together, I’m going to be living
in San Diego.”
Adriana looked at her with a frown. “Why do you say ‘as long as you’re
together’, as if it might not last?”
Penny waved her hand towards the sea as if she were brushing off an
annoying fly.
“It’s nothing. We had a tough night. We’ve had a tough few years,
actually. Things have been rocky since Beth and Kyle split. Thirty years
with the same person either can mean things are routine and boring, or
they’re at the breaking point.”
Adriana quirked a questioning eyebrow. She’d never married and
depended on Beth and Penny to detail the challenges and benefits of long-
term relationships. She’d never dated the same person for more than a year,
in part because she’d always placed her career first.
Penny took a sip of her Mimosa, then pasted on a bright smile.
“I don’t want to talk about Pete today. This is our last chance to see Beth
before she abandons us.”
“So, what happens when you get to New Mexico?” Penny turned to Beth,
effectively changing the subject.
“Well, you saw the pictures of the house, which I love. It’s outside of a
small town at the southern end of the Sangre de Cristos Mountain range,
about 45 minutes out of Santa Fe. All my things are packed and movers are
transporting my furniture, books and clothes there. I’ll beat them there by a
day or so, but not by much. The realtor has been great and helped me
arrange for the power, water, and internet service to be ready when I get
there. She even hired and supervised people to paint the house the colors I’d
chosen for the exterior and interior rooms.”
She’d found a beautiful, compact adobe-style house with two bedrooms,
a kiva wood-burning fireplace, and Saltillo tile flooring. After the sale went
through, she’d had the smooth exterior walls painted a fresh dove white,
and, bucking traditional design, the interior painted a mix of soft warm
colors that made her think of the sky. She’d had the main living room
painted a traditional white, but the kitchen painted in a muted creamy
yellow, the bathroom a pale blue, her office soft satin pink and her main
bedroom a powdery turquoise blue. She couldn’t wait to unpack and
decorate the house exactly the way she wanted. Adriana drew her back to
the present moment by bringing up her post-teaching career plans.
“And then you’re going to write naughty books. Only someone as
optimistic as you would start writing romances right after discovering a
cheating husband and going through a divorce.” Adriana shook her head in
amazement. “What about friends and romance? Are you going to date right
away? I could give you some tips.”
Beth groaned. “Not right away. Maybe never, actually. And even if I’m
ever ready, I’m not doing a serious relationship again. I spent thirty years in
a long-term relationship. I’m not divorcing one husband to find another one,
that’s for sure. I have washed all the men’s socks and underwear, ironed
enough business shirts, and scrubbed enough of someone else’s dirty BBQ
racks to last two lifetimes.”
 The server dropped off Beth’s Bloody Mary, and she took a long,
indulgent drink.
“I don’t even remember what it feels like to be in love, much less fall in
love,” Penny muttered.
“Okay. That’s you, honey. Beth has a great imagination. What about, you
know, sex?” Rigid in her expectations, Adriana might not have found a man
she wanted to date exclusively or to marry, but that didn’t mean she led a
celibate life.
“I don’t remember what sex feels like, either.”
“Penny!” Beth responded, half laughing, half in dismay.
Penny shrugged and drained her Mimosa, turning to wave for the server.
She turned back. “I’ve been living vicariously through Adriana for years, so
I might as well mix it up with your stories, too.”
Beth blushed. “I might try living life more like you do, Adriana. Look for
an AF-NF.” All Fun, No fighting. That code was Adriana’s shorthand for an
ideal short-term relationship worth more than a few hook-ups, although
never allowed to evolve into an exclusive relationship, because of some
missing requirement the man didn’t meet. The first fight was always the
sign to end an AF-NF.
Adriana had developed an entire system of shorthand related to dating
and hook-ups. HG-SY meant Hot Guy, Say Yes. OK-PBU meant Okay;
Potential Back Up, and referred to men she’d sleep with if she was horny
and had no better options. NE-RA meant Never Ever; Run Away. And ES-
EN meant Extraordinary Sex; Exchange Numbers. There were dozens, but
Beth had only memorized a few.
Adriana looked at her with a skeptical face.
 “You know, handling AF-NF requires a certain level of personal
independence and a sassy attitude about sex, right?”
“I know. That’s why I’m adopting your attitude.”
“But you don’t have Adriana’s personality,” Penny pointed out.
Beth rolled her eyes. “Nor her libido, obviously. But I’m older now, so I
don’t have fantasies about soul mates or finding the one true love anymore.
I thought Kyle was the one, and he was for many years, but now he’s not.
I’m not bitter.” That might be a slight exaggeration. “I know that while I’d
like to have a good time, someone to dine with or have a night out, and
even some great sex, if there’s chemistry, since it’s been years since I had
that, I definitely do not want to end up living with a man and doing his
laundry.”
“Well, you’re choosing a challenging time of life to find a man who
doesn’t want to settle down.”
Beth stared at Adriana in surprise.
“What do you mean? That’s all you’ve dated for twenty years.”
Adriana rolled her eyes.
“You know how I’ve stopped dating as much in the last few years?”
Penny snorted. “I thought you were busy with work and this new mission
to get every person in southern California quilting. Or you met someone in
one of your quilting classes and were waiting to tell us about him.”
Adriana managed two growing quilting groups, which both included at
least one male member. Both were artists, reasonably good-looking, and
both were heterosexual. She also ran a stand at the local arts and crafts
monthly event, and showed her own work at several southern California
galleries with annual shows dedicated to traditional arts and crafts. She’d
tried to get both Beth and Penny interested in the arts and craft activity, but
neither had shown any aptitude or deep interest. Beth had started an overly
ambitious project she’d had to hand off to Adriana to finish, and despite a
passion for fine fashion and design, Penny proved terrible at crafts. She
couldn’t stitch a straight line if her life depended on it. She couldn’t even
cut her fabric squares to be the same size and shape.
Adriana grimaced. “I’m not...whatever. I am saying single men over 50
are not trying to keep it casual. The last three guys I went out with were
looking for their next wife.”
Beth paused. “Wait, I thought the guys on those apps were always
looking for simple hookups.”
Adriana twirled her glass around on the table. “It’s been a while since I
went on the apps. And I haven’t met the fated ‘one’ either, because you
know I don’t believe such a man exists.”
Beth noticed she looked away when she said the last bit. Interesting.
After decades of determined independence, could Adriana finally have met
someone who didn’t fit into her world view on men?
She mumbled into her straw, shrugging. “The last two hook-ups may
have been with guys in their 30s.” She paused. “Or 20s.”
In their 20s! Beth was not interested in that. It would be scary enough
getting naked with a man other than Kyle, much less one who normally
bedded skinny young women with no wrinkles and perky breasts. The
comparison would be inevitable and unflattering. She had kept her weight
down, mostly, and did yoga to maintain her flexibility and muscle tone, but
she was no athlete.
Penny must have decided to give Adriana a break, because while she was
also staring at their friend suspiciously, she didn’t try to get Adriana to say
anymore about her personal life. She swung the topic back to Beth’s dating
life.
“So, what advice do you have for Beth? Obviously, she doesn’t want to
waste time hooking up with losers who don’t even know how a woman
pees, much less how to find her clit.”
Adriana laughed. “I’ve seen those tweets. Those guys are out there. I
think Beth’ll figure out which ones are going to be good in the sack when
she kisses them. It’s negotiating other things like the status of your
relationship, surprise feelings, those kinds of things that make dating and
hooking up messy.”
“I assumed you’d set those…I don’t know…rules, up at the start, so no
one gets the wrong idea.” Beth and Kyle had begun seriously dating from
their first shared fast-food meal in college. When they’d slept together
several months later, Kyle had given her an old-fashioned promise ring.
“Casual dating might not be as messy or as intense as long-term
relationships, but they can still wander off the path you first establish.”
“You never have told us how many hearts you’ve broken,” Penny teased
Adriana.
“I wouldn’t say I’d broken any men’s hearts. Disappointed them when I
wasn’t willing to pursue a long-term connection? Possible. But I’d say
they’ve gotten more…desperate…in the past few years.”
Beth shook her head, confused. “You are a committed single person,
aren’t some of them as well?”
“When they were young, and there were lots of dating choices, yeah.
Also, they were fit and healthy. It’s not only married men who suffer from
mid-life crisis. Single guys put on weight and tire of hooking up just like
women do.”
 “I have a theory,” Beth told them.
The server came by with Penny’s new Mimosa, and they paused their
discussion to all order the restaurant’s famed fish tacos.
Once the woman left to put in their order and get the next round, Beth
resumed an explanation of her theory.
“Anyway, you know how we as woman have basically been burdened by
our bodies since puberty?”
“Yes,” Penny and Adriana answered with a united groan.
“Well, most guys under 40-45 don’t even go to the doctor for a check-up
unless something serious happens to their health, or they break a leg, right?
Yet women have had to have annual exams every year since they were
teenagers. Our bodies are freaking more complicated. Women’s bodies are
eternally bloating, bleeding, breeding and making us suffer in some form or
another.”
Penny chimed in. “Our bodies have also made us a target for unwanted
sexual advances and constant criticism from the people around us. We’re
too fat, too skinny, too short, too tall, or we’re not dressed appropriately.
When I was pregnant with Mark, total strangers would walk up to me and
touch my stomach. It drove me crazy.”
“Even though I’ve had an IUD since I was 18, and insist on condoms,
I’ve still always worried about getting pregnant.” Adriana interjected. “And
then there’s the lovely times when your period comes early and you have
nothing on you.”
Beth nodded in agreement. “I once discovered my period had come while
at a wedding that took place two hours from home. Naturally, I was wearing
a pale blue dress. It took me thirty minutes in the bathroom to rinse the
dress out enough so most people wouldn’t see the bloodstain. I still had to
stand with Kyle right behind me for most of the night so it could dry and
people didn’t notice the stain. It ruined the dress, too.”
“Okay,” Penny said. “What does this have to do with guys and midlife
crises?”
“I think their crises happen because their bodies age enough they notice
the breakdown, like arthritis, weight gain, stomach problems, etc. and they
realize for the first time they are getting old.”
Adriana tapped the table with her finger. “That’s what I mean about these
perpetually single guys suddenly wanting to settle down with a woman by
age 50.”
Beth slurped up the end of her drink and set it to the side in perfect time
for fresh drinks and tacos. After the server left, she leaned into the table and
lowered her voice.
“Well, I’m not going through a midlife crisis, but I was thinking now is
the perfect time to try out the bad guy. Even the younger bad guys.” She’d
always been a good girl, only dating the good boys. “Not a 20-something,
though. Early 40s?” She eyed Adriana, who laughed.
Penny gawked at her, then gave a little scream in the back of her throat.
“Yes! This would be the perfect time. And you are looking good, dear. Men
half your age will vie for a night with you.”
Beth swept her hair back. “I was thinking I’d live out some of the wild
fantasies from the books I’ve read.”
“I’m jealous, and a lot less sad now. Living vicariously through you will
be so much fun. You have to share everything with us.”
Adriana held up a hand. “Hold on. You might be right about younger
men, though my experiences suggest otherwise. But where are you going to
find a wild one? Are you going to register on an app?”
 Beth grinned. “Nope. Since I’m in no rush, and once I’m ready, I’m
going to meet guys in normal, everyday encounters. The grocery store, the
auto shop, the hardware store. I’m thinking lean cowboy, muscled
mechanic, or brawny construction worker, as some possibilities. What do
you think?”
At least, that’s those were the plots she’d constructed in her head. In
truth, she wasn’t sure if she had the courage to put her own sexual needs
ahead of any man, which is why her best sexual experiences happened
alone with her vibrator. She hadn’t ever been able to assert her needs in bed
with Kyle, even in 30 years. What were the chances she could do it with
someone she didn’t know?
Unaware of her lack of confidence and looking at her with approval,
Penny lifted her drink over the center of the table, so Beth and Adriana did
the same. Penny once confided in her she’d trained Pete that if she didn’t
get an orgasm, then neither did he.
“Beth deserves lots of hot, satisfying, and wild sex, and she should try all
three options, and then some, on her terms.”
Their glasses clinked, and they broke out into giggles.
“Here’s to lots of good sex,” Adriana announced, loudly enough they got
a few stares from adjoining tables. Beth covered her face and laughed even
harder. She was going to miss these two.
They lingered over brunch for another hour. Then her friends made Beth
cry with their thoughtful departing gifts. Penny gave her a silver necklace
hung with heart and book charms, and a leather-bound writing journal
imprinted with a rising Phoenix figure. Adriana gave Beth a beautiful hand-
stitched quilt, large enough for a king bed, made of squares of warm
turquoise, lilac, silver, and black printed fabric. The design was both fresh
and reminiscent of Southwest Native American culture, with the fabric
pieced together in the center to look like a Phoenix. Both friends’ gifts were
perfect for her new life in New Mexico.
She was definitely going to miss her friends far more than she was going
to miss the sea, that was for damned sure.

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 Chapter Two

“HOW TINY ARE YOU printing your goddamned menus now,” Chris
“Can-Can” Johnston groused to the waitress, waiting for him to make an
order. He held the old weathered menu out at arm’s length and still
struggled to read the lunch specials.
His lead foreman, Bill, chuckled. “Need my glasses?”
Chris scowled over the menu at him. The old man had been his friend for
thirty-odd years and the guy never missed an opportunity to point out Chris
wasn’t getting any younger.
“I’ll take a cheeseburger and fries,” he told Alexa.
“Not like you to pass on the Billy’s enchilada plate special,” Bill taunted
him.
Chris frowned.
“Cancel the burger. I’ll take the enchilada special.” It was rare to get a
decent Mexican meal this far north, and outside of the city, but The
Crossroads Diner employed a cook from Arizona who knew how to prepare
authentic food, and every once in a while, the owner let him add something
spicy to the lunch specials. Unlike the traditional stacked enchiladas usually
served in New Mexico, the restaurant’s cook made rolled and sauced mild
green chili chicken enchiladas Chris loved. They did not give him heartburn
like some of the spicier local dishes.
“You know you should go in and get your eyes checked. You’re lucky
you made it to 50 before needing glasses.”
Fifty. Chris looked at Bill, who had to be at least 70. “Don’t see you
slowing down much at 80.”
Bill grinned, his false teeth flashing in white perfection. “You’re sore
about last night’s celebration?”
The night before, Bill had lured Chris to the club on the pretense of a
short meeting. When he got there, the place was jammed with people
throwing him a surprise birthday party.
“Are you upset Judy set it up, and it was full of families and kids instead
of club pussy?” Bill taunted. Judy was Bill’s long-suffering old lady, and
wife and mother to his four grown kids. “Times long past for you to find
someone to go home to.”
“Nah. I’m not interested in getting locked down by one woman. Of
course, I don’t seem to have the same interest in random hook-ups these
days either.” What Chris didn’t elaborate on was that it wasn’t only his eyes
giving him trouble as he got older. His last monthly visit to see Evelyn
down in Albuquerque had ended with an early escape home. And last night,
he was grateful it was a family affair. Fucking body was going to shit.
Fucking 50. Like he needed a party to celebrate how he was getting old. He
rubbed his eyes and stared out the large plate-glass window. It was tinted to
shade the heat of the sun, while still giving the customers a clear view of
the flat scrubland beyond the parking lot outside.
 “You’re looking at the situation backwards. The idea is to find a woman
you want to lock down.” Bill might love riding a bike, but he loved his wife
more.
That’s when Chris saw the blonde, glad he’d lost none of his distance
sight. She was getting out of a shiny foreign sports car. A sleek Alfa Romeo
Giulia, if he guessed correctly. Gorgeously painted in a dark red, the car
wasn’t what caught his attention though. It was the woman’s long, silver-
gold hair blowing about in the wind. He leaned towards the glass as the
wind, a bit wild and gusty today, whipped her long skirt up and revealed a
curvy ass in bright pink undies, and a pair of smooth tan legs, bared for all
to see. Shit. She got his body’s attention in a way none of the women at the
club had for a long time. The first inkling of arousal in months and it was
for some rich babe in a car with—he checked—California plates, passing
through on the way to somewhere else.
Still, he grinned in enjoyment as she fought the wind, shoving her skirt
down, even as she struggled to close the car door, hang onto her oversized
purse and a long scarf that seemed destined to take flight off the pretty, fine
neck it decorated.
The wind settled then as quickly as it had sprung up, allowing her skirt
and scarf to drop into place. She closed and locked up her car without
displaying any more skin. Pity.
When she turned toward the restaurant, his breath caught. From the back,
the silvery-blonde color of her hair had suggested a mature woman, but her
face was smooth and clear, oval with pink cheeks. Even looking as good as
she did, Chris guessed she had to be at least forty. She was wearing a
sleeveless knit top that showcased small, round breasts, a narrow waist. The
full skirt swirled around her shapely hips and over what he knew to be a
fine set of legs, thanks to the wind.
He watched her approach the café door, eager to see if she was coming in
to eat. A couple of truckers were heading out as she came in, and both of
them turned to look at her with appreciation as she passed them. She didn’t
seem to notice them. She stepped up to the counter where Alexa was
changing out the register tape. From this distance, she looked 40ish, could
be as young as her late 30s.
Alexa gestured and pointed out the window and appeared to be telling the
woman a set of directions.
Meanwhile, Bill turned and looked to see what held Chris’ interest.
“Pretty lady, huh?” He commented. Then he got a scheming look in his
eye.
“Yeah.”
“Looks classier, and older, than your usual lay. She might be the type to
lock down.”
Chris shrugged. “I don’t have a type, but if I did, it wouldn’t be the type
expecting me home at 5:30 for dinner every night.”
“Okay,” Bill conceded. “She looks older than your usual hook-up. Still,
might be interested in a relationship that’s not about cooking for you and
cleaning your house.”
True. He tended to stick to the women in their 20s, but only out at the
club. Most 20-year-olds either wanted fun or nursed a dream of the white
picket fence and two kids. He stuck with the first lot, skipped the second.
Any older? The club life—drinking hard and smoking—and riding bike in
the high desert climate were hard on women’s skin. They developed a
weathered, hardened look by their mid-30s. Since he had never been
interested in a long-term relationship, never planned to marry, he’d cared
less about their personalities or intelligence than he had about their soft,
curved bodies. If he was being honest, sex had never been more than
scratching an itch, an itch that had once raged hot and intense, but now
seemed to have mellowed out to a rare flare up. Even Evelyn, who was
more mature and in her mid-30s, but equally committed to being single, had
failed to rouse his interest recently. Though it was certainly flaring up right
now.
The woman’s hair looked so shiny and slick fluttering in the wind, he bet
it would feel like silk sliding over his bare skin. And her eyes—a pretty blue
—were big, framed with darkened lashes. Her lips were plump, pink like
her cheeks, and he could imagine the pleasurable feel of them trailing over
his body. His groin tightened. If he had this woman in his arms, he could
cancel his doctor’s appointment.
The woman laughed at something Alexa said, and then waved as she
headed back out to the parking lot. Her arms were golden tan and there was
no jewelry on her fingers. Huh. Not like he ever cared to notice that detail
before. He didn’t go after married women, but he didn’t turn them down
either, if they were the ones doing the chasing.
He turned and watched her get into her car, unfortunately without another
battle with the wind. She backed out and drove away. For an instant, he felt
like he’d watched his future flash before his eyes before disappearing, out
of reach. It was like when he’d been a kid in school and failed yet another
exam, thanks to his dyslexia. Test over. No retakes. No woman that
beautiful or rich would look twice at a grizzled old biker like him. He
pushed her out of his mind.
 Alexa delivered their food, and he dug into his enchilada plate, grateful
his taste buds hadn’t diminished like his eyes and his sex drive. Getting old
sucked.

Beth swung her car up the narrow dirt drive leading to her new home. She
was arriving two days before the delivery trucks and wanted to make sure
the house had been thoroughly cleaned and painted before the movers
started bringing in her furniture.
The smooth, split-level adobe house, painted its soft ivory color, sat
facing west on two acres in a small housing development outside town, and
was, in part, at least a hundred years old. Carefully maintained, it had an
inviting façade with a wide, deep front porch running the length of the
house. Weathered round beams, called vigas, butted out from the house, to
shelter the porch and, from the second story in the rear, over the first story’s
flat roofline. The front of the house was enclosed in a charming courtyard
featuring the same walls as the thick, plastered adobe of the house.
The entrance to the courtyard was a whimsical wrought-iron gate
depicting a pair of lizards chasing one another along curved lines. A mature,
airy-leafed catclaw acacia, blooming small yellow flowers, stood tall
enough to overhang the original roofline and spread across a third of the
courtyard, helping to keep the main rooms of the house cool during the hot
days. Several additions had been made to the back of the house, including
two second-story rooms, one which would become her bedroom and the
other her office.
She pulled up at the courtyard gate and admired her new home.
 Outside the courtyard, the scraped property featured several ancient,
gnarled Chisos red oak trees, a half dozen spiky mesquite, more acacias,
dozens of desert willows and, at the back of the property, a giant Texas
umbrella tree towered up and provided additional shade to both the property
and the house. The scattered planting of the desert willows, with their pink
and lilac flowers, added a garden-like feel to the muted colors of the desert
trees.
She put the car in park and climbed out. The gate swung open with a soft
squeak, and a lizard sprinted across the flat stone walkway leading up to the
front door. With a sense of satisfaction, she used the keys she’d picked up
from the realtor to unlock the door and enter.
Inside the split-level structure, the main floors, a mix of original Saltillo
tile in the hallways, kitchen, and bathroom and, in the living room and
upstairs, wide plank hardwood, stained dark and polished to a glowing
shine created a rustic and cool invitation to bare feet. Overhead, the
exposed rounded beams were dark with age and wax. The long narrow
living room included the classic beehive, or kiva, fireplace with a wide
banco, rustic oak mantle and several arched inset shelves for displaying
small objects.
The kitchen and bathroom had been updated a few years before, while
keeping the historic style of the rest of the house intact. A single car
attached garage with a laundry and mud room were the most recent
additions, added about twenty years ago according to the previous owners,
and had been done in the adobe style. The blend of the historic, slightly
eccentric floor plan, deep walls and small windows, paired with modern
conveniences, attracted Beth to the house, and she’d spent more of her
budget than she’d planned to have it. She loved the hive-like feel of the
house and she couldn’t wait to nest in it. It was the perfect home for starting
her new career: writing historical western erotica, and living out her new
life.
Beth was so ready for change and a new challenge. Retired at 51 from 30
years of teaching French to high school students, recently divorced from her
unfaithful husband, and essentially alone in the world, she felt like the
character in the first card of the tarot deck—a fool heading out into the
unknown, ready for adventure, a handkerchief of all her belongings tied to a
stick over her shoulder. Or like a pioneer woman. Even though she was
traveling east from the west coast, she was leaving an urban lifestyle for a
rural one, out among the coyotes, rattlesnakes, and desert creatures. Her
neat little house was a sanctuary against the physical struggles those earlier
women had endured, and for that, she was grateful. She might trade luxury
for simple comforts, but she was not interested in living a rough life.
The real adventure now meant sitting alone in a room typing stories out
of her imagination, and she had no illusions it was going to be easy. Real
life had either become tedious—three decades of teaching students basic
French vocabulary—la plage, le soleil, le mailloit de bain, la marée—or
disappointing—a cheating husband who’d never been a very good lover.
Pfft. Thirty years of marriage and not one satisfying mutual orgasm, a little
secret she’d never shared with even her closest friends. If Beth hadn’t
taught herself how to meet her own needs, and spent most nights the last
decade on the couch awake reading spicy romance novels, she’d have spent
all those years sexually frustrated. Kyle had resigned himself to her
insomnia midway through their marriage, never caring enough to
understand what the root of it was.
 Despite traveling most of Europe and America, shopping and dining in
the best shops and restaurants, and living what many would label the “high”
life, Beth still hadn’t found her place, or figured out what mattered most to
her. She was an excellent gardener, a gourmet-level cook, a stylish dresser,
even at a dozen or so pounds overweight by Kyle’s standards, and a decent
artist. She even played the piano competently. She’d been married to the
perfect businessman husband—educated, courteous, well-connected. She’d
been good at her job—though how many of her students could speak
French even a couple of years after graduation was questionable. Still, she’d
built her professional reputation, been a teacher of the year, won accolades,
published articles in professional journals. She’d enjoyed it all, but had any
of it made her happy in her own skin?
She suspected most life experiences hollowed out after time. Which was
why she loved books and stories. Every book offered yet another life
experience, from another point of view. It didn’t matter whether a person
was wealthy or poor, educated in an Ivy League university or a high school
dropout. Books were indifferent to someone’s success or life challenges.
They only wanted to be read. And now, she was going to risk everything by
launching a career, writing and publishing her own erotic stories. She was
pretty sure, despite all her varied life experiences, this one was the riskiest
adventure of all, in more ways than one.
After wandering the house in a dreamy daze, she went back outside to
park her car in the attached garage. It only took a few trips through the
mudroom to bring her belongings into the cool home. She had a suitcase
with a week’s worth of clothes, her toiletries, a few reference books, her
ereader, her music system, a blow-up mattress with bedding, and her laptop.
Nothing too heavy or difficult to carry. The house featured a large rustic
farm table, left behind by the previous owners because the table, original to
the house, didn’t fit through any doorways. All her other belongings were
currently being transported by a professional moving firm, including the
hand-carved chairs she’d purchased in California to go with the table.
The silence in the house calmed her into a peaceful, meditative mood.
After all these years, she had her own place to do with as she pleased. No
one to cook for, or clean for, or lose weight for.
Her initial inspection showed the realtor had indeed sent in a cleaning
crew and done a good job overseeing the painting, so Beth unpacked the air
mattress and set it up in the largest upstairs bedroom at the back of the
house. Then she placed most of her toiletries in the large bathroom
downstairs, deciding to store only basics in the cute powder room next to
the second level bedrooms. Not having a master suite suited her fine, since
she’d be living alone. No need to share anything ever again. She sighed in
pleasure. After years of running after Kyle, making both breakfast and
dinner every day, doing all the laundry and housecleaning, watching the
movies and shows he chose, faking her enthusiasm for sex, and living up to
her ex’s expectations in pretty much every way, she was thrilled to only be
answering to herself.
Once she’d settled her things, she grabbed her purse to head back out to
complete a few errands in the small local town of Agua Pecos, including
updating her car registration and applying for a New Mexico driver’s
license. She also wanted to check out the local grocers and possibly pick up
something readymade for dinner. Tomorrow, she might return to that diner
where she’d gotten directions earlier, since it was on this side of Agua
Pecos. The server had been nice, and the place was packed for lunch,
usually a sign the food was good.
The second time Chris saw her, the woman, including her long skirt and
silver-gold hair, floated straight past him towards the check-in counter at
the DMV. She had a graceful way of moving he found hypnotic to watch.
She defined femininity. She mysteriously cranked his switch. Not in the
slutty, fuck-me fast way most women did for him. Though the idea of
taking her fast held appeal in its own way. His hardness sinking into,
leaving a mark of ownership on her softness. This woman exuded a
sensuality that skated across his skin, prickling it, making him want to
touch her, pull her up against his chest, run his hands down her curves,
explore all the soft skin on display, and the skin he’d glimpsed earlier at the
café. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever had a similar reaction to a specific
woman like this before now.
And what was she doing at the DMV? Could she be changing her
driver’s license and registration to New Mexico? He sat up straight in the
chair where he’d been slouching. A quick glance down confirmed he’d been
working construction all day. His jeans were covered in sawdust, his hands
were nicked up and there was a long tear across the front of his dirty t-shirt
where he’d caught it on a nail head sticking out of a piece of wood he was
carrying. He sniffed at his sweaty underarm. Not bad. The strong deodorant
he used kept the BO at a manageable level. He ran his fingers through his
beard, took off his hat, combed back his hair, and settled the hat back down.
He was tempted to check his appearance using his phone, but restrained
himself from primping like a teenager.
He sat in the back corner, one ticket away from being called to the
counter to sort out a problem with the registration on one of his construction
vehicles. He’d been there for an hour, waiting. He’d felt hot and tired,
annoyed and impatient. Visits to the DMV frustrated the hell of out him, as
they basically did for everyone, he reminded himself. Funny enough, his
annoyance had disappeared the second the woman showed up. He watched
her pluck a number from the dispenser, after a harried-looking mother with
two bratty toddlers in tow. Luck was with him because the mother dragged
the two boys back into his corner of the room, right where he could
approach the mother without scaring the crap out of her. Unfortunately, one
kid wiped his snotty nose against Chris’ work jeans as they squeezed past
him. Great.
“Ma’am?” he caught her attention.
She turned tired eyes on him. They widened when she realized how big
and mean he looked.
“Yes?” Then she noticed her kid’s use of his knee and groaned. “Oh my
god, I’m so so sorry.” She quickly tugged the boys to her other side and
pulled out a tissue from her purse. “Here, let me…”
Chris caught her wrist and took the tissue, which appeared clean, though
it was hard to say for sure.
“I got it.” He wiped his knee as dry as it would go. When you worked
construction, you didn’t worry too much about getting dirty.
The woman held out her hand to take the tissue back.
“I got it,” Chris told her again, and tossed it into the wastebasket a couple
feet away.
He turned back to the woman, who looked nervous now about where
she’d chosen to sit. She probably wished she’d noticed him before she sat.
He had that effect on people. He was broad-shouldered and over six feet
tall. Working construction kept him in good physical condition, which
included an inherited inclination to big muscles. Add shaggy gray hair, a
bushy beard he rarely trimmed, and a few tattoos, and most people circled
the long way around him.
“Here,” he held out his ticket to her. “Why don’t we change numbers so
you can go first? You look like you could use a little help today.” Plus, her
ticket got him in line next to gorgeous. He had a sudden need to wait even
longer to do his business.
She reared back slightly, but looked hopeful, like someone was offering
her a winning lottery ticket. “Are you sure?”
He scanned the room and found the light-haired goddess, her head bent
over one of those reading devices. Outside in the sun, her hair had looked
more gold. Inside, under the florescent lights, it looks more silver.
“Yep.” He exchanged tickets with the young mother. His new number
was 69. He smirked. How lucky was that, since he’d like to try that position
with the woman from California.
At that moment his old number was called. Serendipity, right? He stood
up after the mother and two boys slid past him, then hustled across the room
in the commotion to drop down next to the object of his interest.
She didn’t look up from the device. He leaned over to see if he could read
anything. It was a blur. Goddamned eyes.
She ignored him. If her stiffening up into a brittle branch was a form of
ignoring him. This close, he could see the fine lines around her eyes and
mouth, and placed her in her early to mid-40s.
“What’s your number?”
“What?” She looked up at him.
“What’s your ticket number?”
“Umm…70, why?”
 “I could give you mine.”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“Why would you want to give me your ticket?”
He boldly looked her up and down. “It’s a 69, and I’d like to share it with
you.”
She gaped in astonishment at him. “Uh…no thanks, buddy. Not
interested.”
He stretched out in the hard chair, manspreading enough to plant his right
leg alongside her left. She shifted and crossed her legs, turning away from
him without looking up. He spread a little further. That did it.
“Do you mind?” she asked in a sharp voice, one fine eyebrow cocked
imperiously. Reminded him of every prissy teacher he’d ever had in school.
Then he looked into her blue eyes and lost track of what he’d planned to
say. Damn. She was pretty. And she smelled good, like wildflowers in early
spring. He suddenly felt his size, not as an intimidating presence that got
him what he wanted, but as a big, overgrown oaf, clumsy and awkward. Her
fine features, delicate nose and chin, high cheekbones were like fine china,
and he was a kid trying to enter her china shop without breaking anything.
He stared at her, struck a bit stupid. He’d given her a crude come-on, but
she wasn’t intimidated. That was something. He simply needed to start a
normal conversation about the weather, or…the weather. Then he did the
equivalent of a middle school boy tugging on a girl’s braids. He teased her.
“Reading one of those dirty books full of kinky sex?”
She looked away, color pinkening her cheeks. Interesting. Or, that’s what
she looked like when she was getting pissed. She ignored his question and
waved her hand in front of his face, drawing his attention down at the way
his leg was crowding hers.
 “Down here, Buster. You’re invading my space.”
He looked down at their connected legs, liking the way she felt against
him. The heat of their bodies merged despite the clothing between them.
Man, he wanted to know whether she had room to fit him between her legs.
Her long legs looked like they’d spread perfectly around his hips. His cock
twitched, even as he wondered if she’d implied he was a dog with the buster
comment. Well, he was a bit of a dog. He would not apologize for who he
was.
She appeared to notice his physical reaction to her at the same time he
did, because she actually gasped out loud, like some shocked do-gooder
church lady from the 1800s. His hard cock literally pushed up alongside his
zipper, distending his work jeans with his obvious arousal. Shit. A prissy
woman had never turned him on before. He shifted slightly and took his
sweaty work cap off and laid it over his lap. He hadn’t noticed how grimy it
had become. She was going to think he was some creep. Maybe he was. To
be honest, he hadn’t sported an erection this fast or this hard in a long, long
time. Hell, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to be interested in this
way. He flashed her a cocky grin. Definitely back in middle school.
She shot up, face bright red, and went to stand at the counter, her long
skirt swishing like the tail of an annoyed cat. Fuck. She was going to think
he was officially a creep. He’d be lucky if she didn’t call the cops, who
conveniently occupied the building next to the DMV.
“Um…how long until my number is called?” she asked over the din of
the air conditioner humming and people talking.
“Could be awhile,” the clerk told her. “We’re backed up and short-staffed
today.”
 She politely handed her ticket to the guy. “Thanks, I’ll come back
another time.”
She stalked across the room without a backwards glance. Chris groaned
and rubbed his face. He wanted to chase after her, but he didn’t want to
scare her off any more than he already had. His buddies would have a good
laugh at his expense if they’d seen that exchange. Too many years of easy
lays at the club and a mutual fuck buddy in Albuquerque had not prepared
him for approaching a high-strung, uptight, “proper” woman like her. His
thoughts turned dark.
What the hell had he been thinking? Did he think a rough guy like him
could waltz up and ask a classy woman out on a date? That they’d go see a
movie and eat dinner out, and share a chaste kiss at the end of the night?
Three dates before sex, if he survived that far? Or that he could proposition
her for a quick fuck out in the parking lot in the middle of the day, and that
she’d agree? She’d never climb into his truck and lay back on his old bench
seat, ready and willing. And what would he do with his now deflated dick?
Suddenly, she swept back into the room and headed his way. His hopes,
and his dick, lifted. She passed him and picked up a stack of papers on the
seat—looked like a driver’s license application and booklet. Before he
could say anything else, she was gone.
He should let this weird experience go. Head out to the clubhouse tonight
and make use of one of the girls. Mondays were quiet, but there were
usually a few hoping for attention. He put his cap back on.
Still.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Thinking about how good she
smelled. How soft her skin had looked. Then his pulse quickened. Turns out
the reason she’d been at the DMV was to apply for a state driver’s license.
That meant she was living here now, in or near Agua Pecos. His heart
kicked up a notch. She was all he could think about as he waited another
hot, sticky hour for his number to get called. He was losing more than his
20/20 eyesight in old age. But he had not lost his interest in sex. It turned
out his interest was getting more refined. And refined had moved into town,
he noted with satisfaction. He’d get another chance after all. Eventually.
Agua Pecos was more small town than big city, and it didn’t take long to
know everyone.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Three

HER FIRST NIGHT IN the house was quiet and uneventful. Beth didn’t
sleep as well as she’d like, but the upgraded air mattress was more
comfortable than she’d expected. Two things she had not anticipated were
the silence and the absolute lack of residential light. She didn’t think she
was afraid of the dark, but it turned out she was a little unnerved by the
change in environments. She’d ended up leaving the light on in the office
with the door partly open. Still, she’d spent an hour after sunset, outside on
the small deck off the large bedroom, and watched the sky grow dark and
full of millions of stars. Urban light pollution prevented her from seeing a
sky like this one back in San Diego.
Today, having returned to the cafe, Beth accepted the menu from the
server and opened it. She’d eaten a sports bar last night and this morning
because she still hadn’t found anything appealing at the grocery store to eat,
and she didn’t have anywhere to store perishables yet. She was starving. As
she perused the menu, her mind wandered back to its new obsession.
She still couldn’t believe the way that wild-looking man had affected her
at the DMV office the day before. She groaned. The guy was hotter than
sand on a San Diego beach in August, even under that unkept beard and
dirty work clothes. He looked exactly like the men she planned to write
about in her books. Hard, rugged, masculine, tattooed. Biceps bulging from
the sleeves of his t-shirt. And she’d reacted to him like the uptight, sexually
repressed schoolteacher persona she’d refined over three decades of
teaching. How on earth did she think she would write sexy novels? She was
a shy prude at best. Started out a shy, bookish girl and teenager, then spent
thirty years polishing up that persona. No wonder Kyle had ditched her for
a sexier, younger redhead.
Maybe the problems in the bedroom had been hers, not Kyle’s?
Nope.
She refused to believe it. Slipping back into thinking it was her fault
made her want to scream. Made her want to hit someone. She should find a
local gym with classes in shadowboxing so she could take out her
frustrations on a sandbag. Ever since Kyle had confessed his involvement in
the affair and asked for a divorce, she’d conducted herself with outward
decorum and grace. Cool, indifferent. She’d refused to let Kyle see how
he’d hurt her. She’d calmly asked him to move out, contacted a lawyer,
amicably settled the divorce terms, and made new plans. But inside, she’d
banked her pain into a smoldering pile of embers, ready to catch fire with
the right conditions.
At first, before Kyle confessed there was going to be a baby in addition
to the infidelity, she’d been processing how they might fix their marriage,
see a good therapist. The affair was the thing to force them to confront their
unhappiness together. Then, she realized she was less angry about the
betrayal than she was about the public humiliation over the betrayal. You
don’t spend most of your life keeping your image pristine and the envy of
all your social friends, then to have it freaking destroyed by the person who
had expected you to be perfect in the first place. That wasn’t a “mistake.”
That wasn’t even stupidity. That wasn’t love. Their marriage had been over
for years, truth be told. They didn’t care about each other enough to even be
friends.
Most of her social circle of friends, those who were their friends, were
shocked when she told them she was leaving her job—30 years ensured a
comfortable pension—and moving to New Mexico where she planned to
write erotic fiction. The women had looked at her half in horror, half in
concern, sure Kyle’s infidelity had sent her off the rails. The men had, of
course, one by one, approached her on the quiet about consoling her at such
a difficult time. A few had offered to help her explore her fantasies for the
scenes in the books they heard she was writing. No thanks. If the snide
comments from their wives over the years had been any indication, they
were no more competent in bed than Kyle had been. Regardless of rapid
refusals, she didn’t think she could stay friends with women whose
husbands had propositioned her. Those relationships were finished.
So, she’d taken her share of the house sale and used it to buy a place
outright near the small town of Agua Pecos, about an hour outside of Santa
Fe. Close enough to go into the bigger city for day trips, but too far to
commute every day. She had few bills now and planned a simple life of
gardening, yoga, reading and writing. These activities gave her the most
pleasure, even more than traveling.
She’d still cook, though cooking special meals for one wasn’t as
rewarding as cooking for two, but she’d keep that simple too. Maybe she’d
lose those pesky fifteen pounds Kyle always fretted over, or maybe she’d
add on another twenty. Didn’t matter because she had no intention of
worrying about what a man thought about her body ever again. The only
thing a man could do for her was sexual in nature, and the few men she’d
dated before Kyle, and Kyle himself, had taught her the sexual partner she
craved lived primarily in books, not in the real world. And those characters
loved their women as they were. Beth wasn’t sure there would ever be
someone in her life—aside from Penny and Adriana—who accepted her as
she was.
Then there was that man at the DMV. He seemed to like her as she was.
No. He was too risky. Because he’d brought up the idea of a 69, she’d spent
far too much of the previous night imagining what it would be like to have
him in her bed. The man had gotten an erection while he was leaning into
her. She’d literally seen his jeans tighten and stretch at the crotch. It could
be because he found you that desirable. No man had ever reacted that
quickly, that…boldly…with her. Until the propositions following her
divorce announcement, no man had ever even approached her for the
simple act of sex. But the man at the DMV didn’t know her. She didn’t
know him.
She simply wasn’t that attractive. Sure, she cleaned up pretty well—but
that was a whole lot of make-up, waxing, nail polish and expensive clothes
to get and maintain that look. Every woman looked good with weekly visits
to the salon. Being attractive and being sexy were not the same thing. One
was about appearances, the other about sensuality. No one had ever claimed
Beth was sensual. They’d always told her she looked pretty.
Not that she was especially pretty yesterday. She had not been wearing
make-up, and she’d done little more than blow-dry and straighten her hair,
so she didn’t look like a wild witch. She’d stopped dying her hair three
years ago because the color washed out within days, but she’d inherited her
early silver-gray color young from a long line of female relatives, some
who’d gone grey by 30. Kyle said nothing about it when she left it natural,
but when all their female acquaintances maintained their blonde or brunette
hair, nary a grey strand in sight, she became the sole gray-haired one in the
bunch. She was lucky, because the color was more silver than gray, which
earned a lot of compliments. She snorted, realizing that’s probably why
Kyle hadn’t complained; his male friends must have still thought she was
still attractive even with her gray hair. Did he know how many of them
came after her when the news broke about their divorce?
Two years older than her, Kyle still sported a full head of dark hair. He’d
only commented on her decision to go gray one time, near the end, and
since she’d been in a foul mood that day, she’d reacted with an unexpected
mean streak, commenting on the weight he’d put on around his waist. It
wasn’t much, and she knew he was sensitive about it, but she’d remarked
on his love handles, anyway. It was also the conversation which marked the
end of their previously solicitous, if dull, marriage. She wasn’t sure whether
she, he, or they both fed the back-and-forth sniping and digs that slowly
became their daily exchanges before and after work in the six months
before Kyle confessed his affair.
Ugh. She hated when she started rehashing her marriage again. It was
over. She was retired. She was free to do whatever and be whoever she
wanted to be. Free to leave her hair its natural color, or shave it all off if she
wanted. Despite a few lingering insecurities, she truly felt exhilarated by the
possibilities.
What if one of those possibilities was a burly, scary-looking man in blue
jeans and a leather vest, and the potential for hot, fast sex without strings?
Why hadn’t she channeled Mae West and asked him, Is that a gun in your
pocket or are you just happy to see me? She snorted her amusement. The
transition from modest wife to adventurous sex goddess was going to take
time and thought. New mission: do not run away from your next
opportunity to get lucky. Something told her the man from the DMV would
know exactly how to make her feel lucky. Lucky in bed. After all, there has
to be some truth to the fantasy of all those bad boy books. She squirmed on
the leather bench seat as her body responded to the thought of being
intimate with the guy. So, this is what sexual chemistry feels like.
“Have you decided, ma’am?”
The food server looked like one of her students for whom she’d written a
letter of reference for college a few years ago. God, she was having dirty
thoughts in front of a kid. Cute kid, though, and over twenty, she guessed.
Bright future full of possibilities. Like her, damnit. She had entered a new
phase of her life and it was going to be filled with great experiences,
including indulging in the pleasures of life she’d been denying herself. She
looked over at the server and shuddered in distaste. Just not with guys half
her age. Nope. She was pretty sure she would never be ready for that, no
matter what Adriana claimed. Some part of her would always be a teacher,
and young people would always be children, as far as she was concerned.
She looked once more at the list of salads she’d been considering and
closed the menu. She might not be ready for wild sex today, but she was
ready to indulge in fattening food.
“What is the greasiest, highest calorie thing on the menu?” she asked the
young man.
He grinned. “Our double-stacked, three cheese chili burger.”
Beth nodded. The fancy restaurants she’d frequented with Kyle and her
friends served nothing like that. “I’ll have one of those and a diet soda.”
 The kid tapped the menu on the table. “Coming right up!”

Beth could only eat a third of the sandwich, but it was salty, spicy and
greasy, exactly what she was in the mood for. She’d put on five pounds, but
she reminded herself not to care. You could always find some way to work it
off, her naughty self told her, flashing a memory of the stranger’s leg
pressed up hot against her thigh. While she’d been waiting for her food,
she’d written several pages of notes about the hero of her story in her new
journal, along with the sensations of being in the presence of her DMV guy.
If the hero had taken on characteristics of the man from the DMV, she
figured that was using realistic details to create believable fiction.
She’d made notes that the hero was tall, rugged and bearded, and smelled
of lumber and outdoor labor. His hair had been unruly and slightly curly,
with the sexy graying at the temples so common on older men. She’d
noticed it immediately when he’d removed his cap to cover his lap. She had
flushed at the memory. His beard was a mixture of gray and red hair, along
with the dark brown on his head. His face was lined with wrinkles, deep
lines fanning his eyes, which had been a sort of greenish brown. She bet
that the mossy color changed depending on what color clothes he wore.
Near the café, she’d found a local grocery store, where she currently
browsed for things to eat that didn’t need refrigeration. She received
notification that the moving company would deliver her things the
following day, but for tonight, she’d still be roughing it.
Distracted thinking about the man at the DMV again, she passed through
two grocery aisles without putting anything into her cart. What was
happening to her? She chuckled under her breath. Apparently, she was
horny for the first time in years. She turned her attention back to browsing
the local market, on the hunt for something semi-healthy for breakfast and
lunch. After the divorce, she’d indulged in choosing sleek stainless-steel
appliances and new comfortable furniture, along with a classic designer
sofa she’d found online and had recovered. It was all on a truck arriving
tomorrow, but she’d need something to eat tonight and come morning.
She’d return to town after her fridge was hooked up in order to purchase
staples, but for now, she needed to pick up something light.
She turned her cart into the bread aisle when she noticed the large man
standing in front of one of the freezer cabinets across from the tortillas. His
leather vest, wrangler jeans, unruly hair in need of a cut, and bushy beard
were immediately recognizable. The man from the DMV who she’d run
away from yesterday. Maybe it was a stomach full of chili cheeseburger or
the time she’d had over last night and today to admit to herself she’d found
him attractive, but—finally—the wild child she hoped lived inside her was
ready to come out to play. She took a deep breath for courage and wheeled
her cart over to him. Time to test out whether he was a HG-SY, or Hot Guy,
Say Yes.
“Still trying to cool off after meeting me?”
The man swiveled slowly to face her. If he was surprised to see her, she
didn’t see it on his face. He quirked an eyebrow, a predatory smile curving
the edges of his mouth.
“You’re talking to me?”
Beth made a point of looking up and down the otherwise empty aisle
before tipping her head at him and quirking an eyebrow back at him.
“I believe I am.”
 They stared at each other for so long in silence Beth almost turned her
cart around to run away, but the man seemed to expect it because he caught
hold of the cart’s wire edge and tugged her up alongside him.
As he did, a full smile stretched his face and beard and the lines fanning
his eyes crinkled. It wasn’t a friendly smile; it was more of what she’d
characterize as a wicked grin. A shiver snaked down her spine. Still
gripping the cart with his left hand, as if to keep her from running off again,
he held out his right hand. She noted there was no wedding band on his left
hand, though that meant little. Kyle had never worn a ring either, and this
man worked with his hands, added incentive to ditch a ring.
“Chris Johnston, owner of a local company, Johnston Construction. Been
in business 25 years. I have references. Both work and character
references. You can call me Can-Can.”
Beth took his hand, noting its large size and rough callouses. When his
fingers closed around hers, it felt like she’d slipped her hand into a warm,
smooth baseball glove. She wondered what that hardness would feel like on
other parts of her body. All her previous relationships had been with men
who had hands as soft as hers. Hell, Kyle got a mani-pedi twice a month.
She doubted this man had ever stepped inside a beauty salon in his life. The
man was a local business owner, and well-known in the community. She
swallowed her insecurity.
“Beth Berne.”
“What brings you to Agua Pecos, Beth?” Hearing him say her name in
that husky voice was the hottest thing she’d ever heard. Or it was that he
continued to hold her hand in his. Another shiver ran down her back.
“I moved here to write fiction.” She was determined to speak of her
writing with pride, despite Kyle’s dismissive attitude. If you’re going to
write, why don’t you write literary fiction, he always asked. Something
respectable.
The expression on Chris’ face was hard to read, but Beth could have
sworn he didn’t like her answer. He clammed up, regardless, and dropped
her hand. The smile disappeared. He looked uncomfortable. He looked
around the store and then returned his gaze to her. She had the sudden
thought he was going to ditch her. She scrambled to engage his attention.
“So, Chris…uh…Can-Can. What things do you build?”
“Custom houses, retail structures, business remodels.” He paused. “I’m
not much of a reader.”
She laughed lightly. A forced laugh. She’d grown accustomed to negative
comments if or when she spoke about her passion or her plans to be a
writer. Kyle and their friends had been dismayed at her interest in reading
and writing what they called mommy porn. Only her friend Connie, another
teacher at the school, shared her love of the genre, and they’d traded books
back-and-forth over the years. Even Penny and Adriana were not interested
in reading romance.
“I doubt you’d read the kinds of things I write, anyway.” She looked
down for courage before making herself lift her chin and stare him directly
in the eye. No point in continuing the conversation if he was going to judge
her as well. “It’s erotica,” she blurted out defensively.
To her relief, he relaxed again, and a smile cracked his face as a
mischievous twinkle lit up his eyes again, less seductive, more genuine this
time. She could have melted into the floor. The man was hot when he
looked hard and scary. But when he smiled like that—so real and without
intent—it was like opening a window into who the man was underneath.
Oh. My. God. The sexual chemistry from the day before ratcheted up
another notch.
She’d always been more attracted to interesting people. Even Kyle had
started out a genuinely nice guy, unpolished like a puppy, full of dreams and
promises, but had slowly evolved into someone who cared about
appearances and social connections, as their wealth and income increased.
Without knowing for sure, she suspected Chris Johnston wasn’t worried
about what other people thought about him. Confidence based on a strong
sense of self-worth beat millions in the bank every time. He pulled her a
step closer, tugging on the cart to do so.
“Well, now you’ve sparked my interest in reading for the first time since
middle school.”
Beth blushed like she was in middle school. “I’m just starting. I’m not
published yet, or anything.” She caught herself pushing her foot up on its
toe and twisting a lock of hair in her finger. Jesus. She stopped both actions
immediately. She was 51 years old. Sophisticated, mature, confident. She
wasn’t Sandy Olsson from Grease. Suddenly, she imagined playing out that
transformation with Chris, or Can-Can, instead of Danny Zuko. It was one
of her favorite classic movies.
Then, Chris reached out and caught her lock of hair with his finger and
gently twisted it himself. Her heart stuttered to a stop.
“Beth Berne, aspiring author, we could go for dinner sometime and you
could tell me more about what you write.”
“Okay.” Her voice came out breathless. Apparently, she was ditching her
plans to remain free of entanglements for a while to focus on her writing
career, already on the second day she’d arrived in New Mexico. Way to
commit, Beth. It’ll be research, she argued with herself. All writers need to
conduct research. Nearly 30 years of marriage to Kyle had added little to
her personal knowledge about what great sex was like. If she was going to
write it into her romances, and not copy other writers, she needed all the
first-hand experiences she could get.
Chris let go of her hair and stepped back. He seemed reluctant to do so.
He pulled out his wallet and extracted a business card and handed it to her.
While she looked it over, he took his smart phone out of his shirt pocket and
tapped the screen. “Your number?”
“Sure.” He didn’t ask, and she wasn’t sure or not whether his lack of
good manners bothered her. How did she like to read books in which men
were bossy, but then not feel as thrilled about it in reality? She figured she’d
find out how bossy the guy was. One date couldn’t hurt anything. It’s
research, she reminded herself. Based on the number of guys who hit on her
after her divorce for a fling, guys enjoyed being a woman’s research.
Can-Can carefully typed a few letters in and handed her the phone. He’d
typed in her name ‘Beth’ and her last name ‘Burn’. Should she correct it?
Yes. She did so without mentioning it. Then she keyed in her mobile
number. She was getting a house line so she could get high-speed internet,
but she didn’t know the number yet. Plus, if her instincts about the guy
proved haywire, she could block his number on her cell more easily.
She handed the phone back. Chris stared at it a moment, then he swiped
and typed in a few letters, and her own phone buzzed in her purse. She
pulled it out to see he’d texted her a message.
Tomorrow 7 ok
She smiled up at him. Damn, he was tall. Then texted back. Yep.
“Can I pick you up, or would you prefer to meet somewhere? If we go
into Santa Fe, it’s a long drive.”
 She thought about it. She could always look him up online and change
her mind before the date.
“Together works. I’ll text you my address, if that’s okay?” she said.
“Definitely okay.”
They stared at each other a moment longer. It was like neither of them
was ready to part ways.
“I should get going.”
“Yeah, I should get going, too. I’ve got things to do.”
“Right. Tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow.”
Beth made herself push the grocery cart past Chris and around the corner
before she parroted anything else the man said. Chris affected her in ways
which both unnerved and excited her.

Chris got home and realized he’d left the store buying nothing for dinner.
All he had in his bag was dish soap, ice cream, and a loaf of bread. What a
dumb ass. Plus, he’d spelled her name wrong. What kind of idiot doesn’t
ask a woman how to spell her name? She was obviously educated,
intelligent and well-off. He knew little about fashion, but that outfit she was
wearing hadn’t come from Walmart or Target. Not even from Macy’s.
She defined classy with her expensive clothes and long, gorgeous hair.
Why was she up for slumming around with him? An aging biker in a
roughneck construction business who couldn’t read past the 9th grade level?
Beth Berne. Appropriate name. She made his blood burn. He thought he
had a normal, healthy male sex drive, and god knew, he’d indulged it
plenty, but he couldn’t remember a time when he’d had this level of
attraction to a woman. He hadn’t even seen her naked or kissed her, but he
wanted to something crazy.
He pondered the situation while he found something in the freezer to
reheat, checked the back deck for rattlers, and then let his dogs out into the
fenced backyard before grabbing a cold beer and joining them.
After getting something into his stomach and roughhousing with his two
German Shepherds, he felt less stressed. He’d known women over the
years, but he’d never yearned for one. Something in him came to life
around Beth. Well, a few things woke up. Their chemistry was unusually
powerful. The timing felt significant, too, considering his recent worry
about his dick working. He’d be a fool not to pursue the chance to get with
her. He’d never lost his head over a woman before, and he was skeptical
he’d lose his head over this one either, but then he’d always liked a little
danger. Emotional danger was a new prospect. A niggling voice in his head
warned him this woman could break his heart, something the gals at the
club claimed he didn’t possess. His mother knew otherwise, but he kept
those two aspects of his life separate.
If Beth was willing to see where things could go, even somewhere
serious, he thought he would be willing to give real dating a try as well.
She’d look great on the back of his bike, her long legs hugging his hips.
Shit. She wasn’t the kind of woman to stay single for long, especially with
the men he knew lived around Agua Pecos. The idea of another man putting
Beth on the back of his bike didn’t sit well with Chris. Bill had told him to
find a woman he wanted to lock down, someone to care about besides
himself and his dogs. Well, Beth was the first woman he’d even been
attracted to enough to consider it. He needed to make sure their first date
was memorable and good enough to roll into a second date.
OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Four

THE MOVERS ARRIVED AROUND ten a.m. on Beth’s third day in New
Mexico. The morning was filled with directing the installation of the
appliances and the placing of the large furniture. The gas man showed early
afternoon to hook up the range and the dryer, and the cable company set up
her account, including internet access. She had to wait a day or two for the
cable box and modem to arrive, but she figured time offline would give her
more time to write.
By five o’clock, when all the workers were gone, and about a quarter of
the boxes unpacked, she was exhausted. With the distraction of so many
people coming and going all day, and asking questions, she’d forgotten to
check her phone for messages. She realized she’d never texted Chris her
address.
She found her phone and checked her texts. Nothing. Shoot. She had a
single bar for coverage and any existing texts had come through in the
house the day before. She wasn’t sure what she should do. Then the phone
rang, startling her.
 Chris. She’d initially identified his contact number as belonging to
Danny Zuko, but then changed it to Can-Can, and then just to Chris
Johnston. That way if the date didn’t work out, she could change his status
to local contractor.
“Hi,” she answered.
“I just got off the job site, have one more stop to make, and haven’t even
gotten home to shower. I did score us reservations at a place in Santa Fe,
but I don’t think I can get us there before eight. Is that okay?”
She looked around at the stacks of boxes and unpacking still awaiting
her. They could wait. The bed was already put together and made, Adriana’s
quilt making the room feel like home. She rubbed her neck and stretched
her back, leaning over into a standing forward, bending pose. She should
ask Chris—she wasn’t sure how she felt about calling someone Can-Can—
to reschedule. Instead, she heard herself agreeing to the time, despite the
short notice. He should have been more considerate and sent her the details
earlier in the day, but what the hell. She wasn’t going to do any more
unpacking today, and she was hungry. In fact, she’d use the time to take a
long, hot shower.
Her voice was muffled with her face upside down, facing her ankles. She
needed to get her yoga gear out, so she could resume her daily exercise
routine.
“Eight’s fine. Did you want to meet at the restaurant?” There was no time
saved by driving separately, and Beth wasn’t sure she wanted to drive the
unfamiliar road home alone in the dark.
There was a pause. “Did you change your mind about driving together
because you don’t trust me?”
 That was the question, right? This man was direct, which she appreciated.
She knew his name and that he did indeed own a local construction
company. A successful one. She’d googled his name and business on her
phone from the grocer’s parking lot right after he’d asked her out. His photo
was even on the company’s site banner. Surely that was enough information
for a first date, right? That he looked like a hardcore biker should be a huge
factor too, though. If you don’t feel safe with the man, why are you
accepting his invitation to dinner? Her gut told her to say yes last night, and
she was going to trust her gut.
“I’d be happy to ride together.”
It sounded like he groaned, or maybe growled?
“I’d definitely like you to ride…with me. Ever been on a Harley?”
“What? Um…I haven’t. I’m not sure I have the right clothes to wear.”
Riding a Harley sounds like the type of adventure she should experience
before she got too old. Note to self: if the date worked out, order leather
pants as soon as the internet was working.
“I didn’t mean tonight, exactly. I have a truck. I meant some afternoon,
you might like to go for a ride.”
“The truck for tonight is better. I’ll think about the Harley.” She already
knew she was going to say yes to the motorcycle ride, if the date went well.
“Good enough. Address?”
She told him and was surprised when he laughed.
“What?”
“You live next door to me.”
“What?” The closest house was at least a half mile away. But in this rural
residential area, half a mile was “next door.”
 He told her his address, described the property, and she realized he lived
in the green single story she passed on her way to and from the main
highway. It wasn’t fancy, but it looked well-kept and tidy, with a large part
of the property fenced behind the house.
That was unexpected. If she hadn’t met up with him in the DMV or the
grocery store, she’d eventually have met him as her neighbor. The feeling
that their meeting was being arranged by the universe crossed her mind. She
dismissed it because their meeting was simply chance, and thinking it was
anything more…cosmic…was sure to be a dangerous way to think about
meeting someone new. What was more concerning was living so close to
someone with whom she’d agreed to go out to dinner. What if things didn’t
work out? At least the houses weren’t ten feet apart, like they were in San
Diego.

As arranged, Chris drove up to her front gate at 7:00. She wasn’t quite
ready, having lingered in the shower and then dithered over what to wear
for far too long. People wore everything from designer outfits to shorts, t-
shirts and flip flops in California, even to nice restaurants along the coast.
But this date felt like a milestone moment in her new life. She wanted to
celebrate it. She wanted to feel sexy, free to explore her wild side. She
wanted to dress in something that gave her the courage to flirt. She ended
up choosing a loose, flowing, sleeveless Silvi Tcherassi maxi dress
constructed out of several bright cotton prints stitched together in a
patchwork design, something she’d picked up from a shop in Barcelona a
couple of years before. She cinched in the soft, thin fabric with a wide belt
and threw on a sheer white blouse with wide, lace-trimmed sleeves in place
of a jacket. She wasn’t sure whether the outfit looked more romantic than
sexy, but it made her feel attractive, artistic, like a writer living outside
Santa Fe.
Because Chris was tall, she added a set of slim, spike-heeled sandals she
rarely wore, mainly because they made her taller than Kyle, and he’d hated
that. They showcased her slim ankles and the pretty sparkly turquoise nail
polish she’d carefully applied after her shower. The shoes gave her enough
height, the dress swished free off the ground. She twirled in front of the
mirror she’d leaned against the wall in front of all the artwork she’d
unpacked earlier. She’d straightened her long hair and left it loose, and put
on minimal make-up. Remembering the necklace Penny had given her, she
found it in her jewelry box and put it on. It hung at the perfect length to
draw attention to the deep V-neck of the dress. She posed in front of the
glass, feeling like someone already from New Mexico instead of California.
She was putting on a pair of dangling silver earrings to match the silver
necklace and belt buckle, when Chris knocked on her door.
She opened it to a cleaned-up man. Although he was still wearing jeans,
they were clean, pressed, and he’d traded his work boot for polished
Western boots. He’d trimmed his hair and beard, and put on a black button-
up Western shirt. The worn biker vest was gone, replaced by a dark brown
leather one with tassels. His large belt buckle was silver and featured an
artistic-looking chunk of turquoise. When she finished admiring his
transformation, she looked up and noticed he’d been making his own
inspection of her, and the approval on his face gratified her deeply. Kyle’s
inspections had generally been critical and accompanied by suggestions for
improvement, and, frankly, the looks the male acquaintances in their social
group had sent her way were more leering than appreciative. Over the
years, she’d learned to ignore the male gaze because it either left her feeling
inadequate, used or abused. She dressed for the other women. For the first
time in years, she discovered it could be worth paying attention to what
men liked again, if it was a man she wanted looking at her.
Chris whistled softly. “My god, but you’re fucking gorgeous.”
Be still her heart. Beth couldn’t help but feel a glow of pleasure at his
compliment.
“You clean up fairly well yourself,” she told him, an understatement if
there ever was one. His rough masculinity was still evident, but now
seemed heightened by the thin veneer of civilization. He also smelled
amazing, a mix of musk and evergreen.
He shuffled his feet, gesturing out towards his truck. “We should get
going if we want to get to the restaurant on time for the reservation.”
“Of course. Let me get my purse and lock up.”

All thoughts about keeping his head screwed on straight over this woman
disappeared when she opened her door to him. Fuck, but she was as
beautiful as a model or an actress. He felt like a dirty coyote standing next
to a fancy French poodle, even after stopping in at the local barbershop on
his way home for a trim to his hair and beard. He’d showered extra-long,
scrubbed his nails, and, though he had no fashion sense, dressed carefully
before coming to pick her up, sticking to pieces of clothing his sisters had
gifted him with in recent years.
He waited for her at the door of the low porch so he could help her down
the step to the flat stone path. Those thin straps of leather wrapped around
her feet hardly looked like practical footwear for the streets of Santa Fe, but
he wasn’t going to recommend she change out of them, not after they made
his heart race with excitement. Her dainty toe nails were painted a shiny
blue, and she wore the sexiest little rings on her toes he’d ever seen. When
did women start wearing rings on their toes? If he’d seen it before, he’d
never paid it any attention. On Beth, it made him think about doing things
in a bed he’d never considered before.
He’d carry her over the rough Santa Fe pavement before he’d
recommend she change into more durable footwear. She joined him,
stopping to lock the door behind her and preparing to follow him down to
the pavers in the dirt, forming a walkway to the compacted drive. Since he
didn’t want the evening to start with a sprained ankle, he wrapped an arm
back around her slender waist and anchored her to him to guide her to his
truck. The stone slabs had crevices and bumps, making for a less than level
walking surface.
“I can walk on my own,” she laughed, hooking her arm around his waist
for balance. God, she felt nice pressed up against him. Smelled like vanilla
and jasmine.
“I’m sure you can walk fine on a smooth surface, but this path is rough,
and the porch needs sanded down and stained.”
“I have a few projects I need done on the house. Hey, I don’t suppose you
can recommend a handyman?”
He knew a few. He wouldn’t be recommending any of them. If she
needed work done around the house, he’d fit it into his schedule. He’d made
an external assessment of the house when he’d driven up. It was freshly
painted, but suffered from areas of neglect, like the state of the porch
floorboards. He already planned to have her take him through the interior to
identify any additional issues. Fortunately, the roof looked to be in good
shape, at least based on what he could see standing up on the threshold of
his truck’s door. The thunderstorms in the desert were often accompanied
by heavy downpours leading to leaking roofs.
“I’ll get you taken care of,” he promised, as he opened the passenger
door of his truck and helped her into it, being sure to appreciate the way her
dress and shirt clung to her ass as she climbed up. He went around the front
and climbed into the driver’s seat.
“That’s sweet of you. The house has been well-maintained mostly, but I
have a few projects that need done.”
“I’m pretty sure no one would call me ‘sweet’,” he shook his head,
chuckling at her polite mischaracterization. Mischaracterization? He didn’t
think he knew that word. Was his brain trying to act smart in Beth’s
company?
“I supposed alpha-men like you don’t like to be seen as sweet,” she
agreed, as she put on her seatbelt. “But you might be. Underneath all that
muscle and hard persona. Isn’t that what a tough exterior is all about,
protecting a softer interior?”
Chris looked over at Beth. She sounded like a prim librarian, but looked
like sex on a stick. He never knew he had a thing for good girls. And
certainly, never for airy-fairy artsy ones. He’d never have guessed they
could be sexy. Her dress made him think of hippies. And free love. When
she stared at him in return, he let her see his hunger for her by running his
eyes down over her body and back up to her face. She squirmed on the seat,
straightening out the folds of the dress’s skirt.
“Alpha? I like that. But the only sweet thing in this truck is you, and I
hope to have you for dessert at some point.”
 Beth couldn’t stop the laugh barking out of her mouth, even though she
covered her mouth with her hand. He’d clearly caught her off guard. She’d
probably never been around men who spoke crudely, though he was sure
she’d been around men who had certain expectations. No woman as
attractive as Beth avoided men’s sexual advances.
“Too corny? Too coarse?”
“Ummhmm,” she responded noncommittally. “A bit on the nose, maybe.”
He sent her another hot look, noting the way her belt accented her narrow
waist, and started the truck up, shifting into drive.
“Nose, mouth, tongue, teeth, I imagine they’ll all be somewhat
involved.”
As he turned out of her drive onto the road, he watched her shaking her
head from the corner of his eye. He hoped she was amused rather than
outraged.
“I’ve agreed to dinner, and nothing more,” she told him in a lofty voice
she’d probably mastered over the years. “Don’t get your hopes up tonight
will be anything more.”
Chris shifted gears, noting the empty road around them, and sent her
another long, fiery look, lingering on her mouth. “Beth, don’t you know a
rough redneck like me knows he’s got nothing more than a wing and a
prayer when it comes to wooing a classy woman like you?”
Chris was pretty sure he’d never used the word ‘woo’ in his whole life,
and never seriously. The woman was causing parts of himself to surface
he’d never seen.
“I wish you’d put on your seat belt,” she told him.
He sighed and reached around to tug the rarely used safety belt latch
from behind his shoulder, dragged it over his chest and searched for the
buckle to click it into place, without luck.
“Here,” she said, “Let me help.”
Beth caught the belt latch out of his hand and clicked it neatly into the
buckle. Chris shifted uncomfortably under the strap.
“I hate these things.”
“It’s been the law for decades. How are you not used to them?” she
asked.
He shrugged.
“I’m in and out of my truck all day long, driving short distances, and
there’s no reason to put it on. I guess I get lazy about wearing it on the
highways too. Plus, you already know I ride a Harley. Ain’t no seat belts on
those.”
“Well, I, for one, would rest easier if I knew you were using the seat belt
whenever you’re driving high speeds,” she told him. “At least when you’re
in a vehicle that has them.”
“We haven’t even had dinner yet, and you’re worrying about my safety,
already?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’d worry about anyone who didn’t wear their seat
belt. Except my ex.”
This time it was Chris who barked out a laugh. “Mean. I like that in a
woman.”
“Well, you’ll be disappointed in me then, since I do my best to never be
mean. Except to my ex. And truthfully, I didn’t even get mean with him
until near the end of our divorce. But he gave me no choice.”
Chris wondered how much of an asshole a guy would have to be to mess
up marriage to a woman like Beth.
“How long you been divorced?”
 “It was finalized last month, but it took almost three years from start to
finish.”
“Christ! How long were you married?”
“Including the separation, thirty years.”
Chris processed that bit of information and found he didn’t like it. Some
guy out there had access to this woman’s bed for three decades, and
obviously didn’t treat her right.
“Are you okay talking about it?”
Beth shrugged and looked out at the rolling desert outside the window.
The sun was descending in the west and its golden hue cast a striking
pattern of light and shadow over the landscape of mixed cacti, shrubs, and
wildflowers. It was one of Chris’ favorite times of the day.
“There was nothing special about it. Standard male mid-life crisis, affair
with a younger woman, gets her pregnant, blah blah blah. Our marriage fell
into so many stereotypes, there’s nothing unique about it. Frankly, it bores
me to discuss it.”
So, the guy was even more of an asshole than he’d figured. Of course, the
fact a lot of his buddies at the club cheated on their wives on and off all the
time, and he had never said a word about it, his loyalties being to his
buddies and not to their wives, made him squirm a bit. He wasn’t even sure
he’d say something to Bill, if the guy ever strayed, and he sincerely liked
Judy. Fortunately, Bill was unerringly faithful to his wife.
The sun was sinking low enough the glare bothered him, so he grabbed
his sunglasses from the visor pocket, flicked them open, and put them on.
An uncomfortable silence descended in the truck. He wondered what
Beth was thinking about.
 “I’m sorry you had to go through that shit with the guy,” he offered.
Chris knew if the idiot was stupid enough to show up looking for Beth, he’d
be happy to pound him into the ground.
Beth shrugged. “I’m over it, mostly. In fact, the divorce has been
liberating for me. I’m starting a new phase of my life, and it’s the most
excited I’ve been since I was a kid graduating from college.”
“That’s a great attitude.” He shot her an approving smile.
“Well, it’s true. I didn’t even realize how rigid and uninteresting my life
had become. It crept up on me. You set up goals, head down the road
towards achieving them, and then fall into patterns and expectations without
questioning yourself periodically whether you even still want those things.”
“What got boring?” he asked. Hopefully, the sex. He knew how to make
a woman come hard. He’d make a note of finding new things for her to
experience in and out of bed. Or not. Jesus, Can-Can. This is a first date,
and the first date you’ve been on in thirty years. Don’t get ahead of
yourself. Still, he’d never been more interested in a woman’s answer.
“Material things. When you’re young, you think you want a big house in
an expensive neighborhood, and a fancy car, fine clothes, jewelry,
international travel. At least, those were the things I wanted. I was a French
teacher, and I love visiting France. I went every summer for nearly thirty
years. I even thought about moving to Paris after the divorce, but it wasn’t
practical, both because of the hassle of getting a visa, and because the
divorce didn’t leave me with the income to live that lifestyle anymore.”
Chris brooded over what she said. Shit, he figured she had money and
came from an elite lifestyle, but traveling to Europe every year? He wasn’t
hurting for money, but no way would he spend it flying internationally
every year, or buying a vehicle with a price sticker like her vehicle had. He
got by with his beat-up work truck and a new mid-range Harley lowrider he
paid less than twenty grand cash for last year. He wondered why she’d
bought a house out here instead of closer to Santa Fe. She could afford
anything she wanted. Though the house she had bought was a classic adobe
and had great style. He’d seen the for-sale sign go up after the last owner
died, and had even thought about checking into it. But then he decided he
didn’t want to spend the money. Shit. He didn’t even want to go to Europe.
Strike one for common interests.
“Paris doesn’t sound boring.” It sounded intimidating. Unfamiliar
language. Different social behaviors and expectations. He pictured a traffic-
congested Paris, and beyond that, country roads. The country roads might
not be too bad. At least they drove on the same side of the road. Or was that
another part of Europe? He had never needed to know.
“Oh, it’s not boring, but it is expensive, for someone retired and living on
a pension.”
He looked over at her. “I thought you were a writer?”
She blushed and looked down to smooth out her skirt.
“An aspiring writer. I don’t know if I’m even any good.”
Chris wondered what it would be like to start a whole new career at this
stage in his life. He knew the construction business backwards and
forwards, all the challenges and irritations, and he had strategies in place to
deal with all of them. Work was largely automatic for him these days.
Maybe it didn’t matter what career or lifestyle you built for yourself. At
some point, it failed to excite you as much as it did when you were young.
Things that had led to sleepless nights of worry in the beginning were mild
irritations now.
“What about you?” Beth asked.
 “What about me?”
Beth huffed in amusement. “Have you been married? Had kids? I assume
you’re single, since you asked me out.”
“I’m single. Always been single.”
“Always single? You mean never married.”
“No. I mean single. I’ve never even had what you’d call a steady
girlfriend.”
“Wow. That’s…kind of amazing.”
“Got a kid though.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“A daughter. Product of a drunk one-night stand when I was young and
stupid. She’s twenty-four now, living with a boyfriend out in Tucson. You
have kids?”
“No. My ex didn’t want them, and I guess, since I agreed to that
condition of our marriage, I didn’t want them either.”
“Wait! You said he knocked up some young woman.”
“Yep. So, I guess he decided he wanted kids after all.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” He might not be as fancy or rich as Beth’s ex, but he’d
been nothing but honest with women. And even though he hadn’t planned
on kids, he’d taken responsibility when it happened, although he’d insisted
on a paternity test. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. Maybe that’s what happened
to Beth’s ex. Whatever. His stupidity was Chris’ good luck.
Of course, he’d been extra careful whenever having sex afterwards. No
broken condoms. No intercourse or oral sex without protection. He might
be a little paranoid, still. That’s why he kept things oral at the club, and only
had sex with Evelyn, who he trusted to do everything possible to avoid
pregnancy as well, since her career dominated her life.
 “Did…did you want kids?”
He choked out a laugh. “No. I got little say in whether I became a father,
but I stepped up. Being a dad has its good points. One being Jessica. And its
bad points. Her mother.”
He’d always paid child support, right from the start, and did the whole
shared custody thing, holidays, with an annual vacation thrown in to boot,
would impress Beth. He would have paid for Jessica’s college, if she’d
needed it. Smart girl got a full-ride scholarship.
“Do you see her often?”
“Jessica? Yeah. She comes back to Agua Pecos about twice a year to see
her mother, and then calls me, so I can take her out to dinner. Now, her
mother? I see her only if I don’t see her coming first.”
Beth laughed again. “That’s good, about Jessica, I mean. Her mother, not
so much.”
“It is what it is. I want the kid to do well, and her boyfriend seems a
decent guy. Amazingly, they’re both in grad school.” He sent them
something every couple of months on the side, figuring money was tight
since neither of them worked full-time while they were in school.
“That’s wonderful. In actuality, I had lots of kids, really. Being a high
school teacher allowed me to connect with and mentor plenty of young
people. It was rewarding work, and I enjoyed it, especially the first couple
of decades.”
“I bet those kids appreciated having you as their teacher too.” He bet the
boys spent a fair amount of time fantasizing about her instead of reading
their textbooks.
“Yeah, I think some of them did. We had a good time learning to speak
French and about French culture. Some of my students went on to
university to get their degrees in French, too.”
“I speak Spanish.”
Chris felt a flush creep up his neck. He had no idea why he shared that
tidbit, and he certainly couldn’t read or write the language, in fact his
Spanish was more Spanglish than Spanish.
“That’s fantastic,” Beth said.
He shook his head. “A lot of my employees speak Spanish as their first
language so I’ve learned it on the job over the years. I’m no scholar.”
“Still, being bilingual is a skill few Americans develop. I’m impressed.”
Jesus. He felt like she’d given him an A on his homework. The woman
was a danger to his sense of self.
“That’s Santa Fe up ahead. I booked a table at one of the restaurants
downtown, near the Plaza on East Alameda.”
“Sounds great. Have you eaten there before?”
“A long, long time ago. It’s one of the top restaurants in town, though, so
I don’t think we’ll be disappointed.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great.”
Chris focused on traffic and finding the parking garage he’d booked at
the same time as he’d managed to book the restaurant. Usually, they
required more advanced reservation requests, but someone had cancelled
and he’d called at the right moment. The truck bounced on the uneven
street, jostling Beth. She was probably used to a more comfortable vehicle.
He was fucking this whole date thing up. It was a bit of a walk to the
restaurant, now that he thought about it. He really should have warned her
to wear better shoes.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Five

BETH KEPT QUIET AS Chris drove competently through the city and
turned into a parking garage. The conversation on the way into the city had
never lulled until the end. The man was easy to talk to, and she liked he was
down-to-earth, even blunt. With her ex, she’d learned to monitor what she
said in case it triggered a defensive reaction. Kyle had liked his ego stroked
and to be told how wonderful he was. Frankly, it was mentally exhausting,
and she didn’t plan to spend energy taking care of other people’s feelings
ever again.
When she’d genuinely tried to compliment Chris for speaking Spanish,
he’d dismissed it as nothing special. What he may not realize is, in general,
Americans didn’t value being able to speak anything other than English.
Teaching a foreign language was often a thankless task. Foreign language
teachers were often harassed for giving tough grades and expecting students
to learn the language they were studying.
Most kids in school only took a foreign language, a requirement for
college, if they were planning to attend university, not because they wanted
to learn a second language. Consequently, they never applied themselves to
learning a new language, which was a challenging experience for most kids
as they got older. Most kids ended up with poor test scores and low grades.
Because the students were college bound, both parents and administration
frequently pressured the foreign language teachers to inflate grades. She’d
even had parents try to bribe her with coveted professional sports tickets,
dinner gift cards, expensive holiday gifts. It had been one of the most
frustrating aspects of her job. Kyle had told her to take the gifts and raise
the grade. Make everyone happy. Especially him, when the tickets were for
a Padres home game. She’d said no.
Chris had picked up a second language all on his own, and she sincerely
admired him for it. True, he probably didn’t read or write it, but she bet his
employees appreciated the effort to meet them at their linguistic crossroads
by speaking it.
Chris parked his truck in a multi-level parking garage and turned off the
vehicle.
“The restaurant is a couple of blocks away.”
“Great,” she told him. “I like downtown Santa Fe. The city is one of the
reasons I moved to New Mexico.”
They both got out of the truck and met around the back, where Chris
offered his arm, like a gentleman, even though he wore a scowl.
Beth suppressed a smile. She’d noticed he’d tried to get around to open
her door, but she wasn’t bothered about that kind of thing. Sure, if they
approached a door together, it would be nice and polite of a man to hold it
open for her, but she had no issue with doing the same for a man, if she
reached the door first. Chris didn’t seem the courtly type. Maybe he was
making a special effort for her.
 “These streets and sidewalks are pretty uneven in places,” he warned her,
“and I don’t want you to trip or twist your ankle in those pretty shoes.”
“Oh,” Beth said, just as her heel caught on a gap in the concrete. He
waited for her to free her heel, check the damage, of which there was little,
and start walking again, taking more care to watch where she stepped.
He shifted his arm around her back, pulling her close.
“I could carry you,” he murmured down into her ear as they passed a
large family coming from the other direction.
“I don’t fancy hanging upside down over your shoulder, my ass in your
face,” she replied in an equally low tone.
“Now that paints a pretty picture,” he teased, grinning at her, his humor
returning.
Beth shook her head and rolled her eyes in playful exasperation. The idea
of being carried by Chris appealed to her in ways she’d never expected.
She’d have to watch herself with this guy. He could play the charming
seducer as easily as the rough caveman. The idea they could play together
both unsettled and excited her. So far, she was thoroughly enjoying herself
in his company. Things felt easy with him. She realized she wasn’t
continuously monitoring his behavior and what he said, then modifying her
own to match. Getting older and wiser had its perks.
The restaurant was located in an adobe-style building with ironwork
railings and a hand-crafted wooden door. Several pieces of original
sculpture forged from iron, lit from below, were displayed along the walk
into the restaurant, casting an interesting shadow across the bright white
surface of the building’s plastered finish.
“I hope you like fancy New Mexican food,” Chris told her, opening the
wrought-iron gate to the pathway leading into the restaurant. “I’m told this
is one of the best in Santa Fe.”
It was, since it was one of her favorite restaurants in the world. Briefly,
Beth closed her eyes and imagined her past, and then opened them to
compare what she remembered with what remained. Inside, the floor was
still covered in rustic Spanish tiles, and the entry walls were tiled in familiar
bright yellow and blue graphic Mexican tiles. Inside the dining area, the
tables were dressed in crisp white tablecloths, lit candles, gleaming
glassware and hammered cutlery. The walls showcased large, beautiful
Southwest-themed works of art, some the same, some different from her
last visit four years ago, all painted in bold colors and strokes. Upbeat
mariachi music played in the background, and the familiar smells of spicy,
tangy cooking permeated the air.
Beth didn’t know whether to tell Chris that Flor del Sol was, hands down,
one of her favorite restaurants in the world, or not. Whenever she’d traveled
to Santa Fe in the past, she’d been sure to have at least one meal in the
landmark establishment during her stay. The fact it was the first place he
was taking her felt serendipitous. The last time she’d eaten here, Kyle had
been in a cruel mood, finding fault with what she wore, what she ordered,
what she said. It had tainted her memories of the place.
She’d forgotten that miserable night until she came through the door
again, but being here with Chris on a first date felt like a do-over. A chance
to replace bitter memories with new happy ones. She couldn’t keep the
glow of pleasure from her face when she turned towards him and the
hostess as they were about to be seated.
“This is perfect,” she told Chris, sliding her arm through his. Although
the lighting was dimmed, she thought he blushed. He shrugged.
 “Like I said, the place comes highly recommended. I’ve only eaten here
once, and it was years ago.”
As soon as they were seated—Chris taking the time to pull out her chair
himself—the server appeared and took their drink order.
“Two top shelf margaritas on the rocks sound good?” he asked.
“Sounds great. Be sure to salt the rim.” The server left to get their order.
“God, the smells are amazing. I’m warning you already I am going to
overindulge,” Beth said as she opened her menu. Everything looked
delicious. She also noticed the prices were as steep as she remembered.
She’d never worried about ordering $30.00 appetizers or $60 courses when
she and Kyle ate out. He made a lot of money in his work, and they’d
indulged in nice vacations, nice dinners, nice cars and a nice house with a
sea view in one of the most expensive cities in the country. A few times,
they’d even spent more than a grand on a single meal and drinks up in Napa
Valley. For the first time in years, she got cost-conscious. Even if Chris
owned his own business, it didn’t mean he made the money Kyle did.
She fidgeted in her seat, straightening the knife so it aligned with the
spoon, and moving the water glass to the right to make room for the ordered
margarita.
“You know, since we just met, I don’t expect for you to buy my meal.”
The look on Chris’ face went from surprise to a deep scowl.
“You think I’d take you somewhere out of my budget?”
She gulped. “Ah, no…”
“Beth, I know I don’t drive a fancy car or wear expensive clothes, but I
own my business and make a good living. I don’t cotton to all that posturing
and putting on airs. I may not have eaten in this restaurant much, but it
doesn’t mean I couldn’t eat here every damn night, if I wanted.”
 Beth reached out and placed her hand over his, which had gone from
relaxed to a tense fist on the table. She’d clearly insulted him.
“Chris, please. I didn’t mean that. I…I’m not sure I’m worth this kind of
investment.”
If possible, Chris’s scowl got darker. “You better explain carefully so I
can understand what it is you’re trying to say.”
Beth took a deep breath. “I recently divorced—”
“You said you’ve been split up for almost three years.”
“Yes. And I am over my ex and the marriage, mostly. What I’m trying to
say, badly it seems, is I’m not sure what I want. I mean, I moved to New
Mexico so I could afford to write and live on my pension. And I love living
in my own place, somewhere all mine, for the first time ever.”
“You were living with your ex while you were getting a divorce?”
“No, but I stayed in the house we’d lived in for fifteen years until the
divorce was final and it sold.”
“Okay.”
“I’m shockingly attracted to you, but I was imagining my life, at least for
a few years ahead, to be lived independently, to be sort of, all about me. I
certainly didn’t plan to go on a date the first week I got here.”
Chris’s scowl eased, and he swapped their hands so his rested
protectively over hers.
“A date doesn’t mean you’re trapped in a relationship,” he told her
gently. His face darkened again, as he seemed to think of something else.
“And it sure as hell doesn’t mean you have to give out once I’ve paid for
your meal.”
Beth looked up at him through her eyelashes. She’d been admiring the
size and strength of his hand cupped over hers.
 “Hell,” he cursed again, “You’re on a date with someone who’s never
even been in a relationship. I doubt I’m a threat to your single life.”
“You’ve never had a girlfriend?”
He shook his head, but his frown softened back into a straight face. The
guy could hide his feelings if he chose to.
“But you’ve dated. Or…been on multiple dates with a woman, right?”
“Not in at least thirty years.”
“Are you telling me this is going to be our only date? I mean, this is a
date, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t care if we went Dutch.”
At that moment, the server returned with their drinks, and they moved
back, their hands parting, to allow the server to place the margaritas on the
table.
“Were the two of you ready to order?”
Chris shook his head. “Can you give us a few more minutes to decide?
I’ll wave you over.”
“Of course,” the young woman said, politely stepping back and moving
away. “I’ll watch for your signal.”
They both picked up their drinks and Beth was about to take a gulp when
Chris reached across the table and clinked his glass against hers.
“To investing in more than one date,” he said, staring hard into her eyes.
Beth sipped her drink, unable to look away. The man had beautiful pale
gray eyes, with deep laugh lines fanning out across deeply tanned skin. This
was a man who enjoyed life, who lived in the moment. She wanted to be the
enjoyment in this moment.
She choked slightly on the salty rim of the glass.
“You were saying,” he prompted her.
Beth set her drink down and reclined back in her seat, studying him.
 “What if I’m not ready to date seriously?” She asked him.
“I’d do my best to convince you otherwise.”
“In what way?” Was he controlling? Was he like Kyle? It would be her
luck she’d go for the same type of guy again.
Chris stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“I don’t know much about wooing a woman. Like I said, I’ve never tried
to win a woman’s affection, not once in my life.”
He picked up her hand and laced their fingers together, studying his
scarred knuckles against her pale fingers and polished nails. He shifted the
angle of his hold so he could lightly, reverently, caress her palm and inside
wrist, sending shivers of pleasure up her arm.
He kept his voice low, seductive.
“I know how to fuck and give a woman screaming orgasms. But only
when she’s ready and asking for it.”
Beth’s breath hitched, and he looked up at her from under his eyebrows
with an almost questioning expression, were it not for the way the candle’s
flame made it look like the devil danced in his eyes. She didn’t know what
to say.
“That’s where I’d start, anyway. See what else I can think up. I’m pretty
sure I’m going to want more than one night with you.”
When she still didn’t say anything, he squeezed her hand and let her go.
“What are you thinking, Beth?”
“I’m thinking we should order dinner and I should let you pay.”
The smile of approval on Chris’s face transformed his whole look, and
Beth couldn’t help but smile back, even if it was shaky.
He waved the server back over.
 “You said you wanted to over-indulge tonight. Do you trust me to order
for both of us?”
Beth narrowed her eyes in pretend suspicion at him, but continued to
smile.
“Yes.”
The server reached their table.
“How much is the chef’s tasting menu tonight?” he asked.
“$200 per person without the wine pairing and $300 per person with it.”
Beth had immediately drooled over the seven-course offering when she’d
opened the menu, but had decided it would be too much food, and too
pricey for a first date. It started with spicy grilled shrimp, before proceeding
through four seafood plates and then duck mole, and finishing with a
Mexican chocolate dessert.
Chris quirked an eyebrow at her.
“Would you be okay without the wine pairing, since we have a long drive
back?” He looked her over. “And I don’t want you too drunk for my first
date kiss.”
She blushed.
“Of course.”
“Good.” He turned to the server, who was comically fanning herself with
the menu, having heard what Chris said to her.
“We’ll both have the chef’s tasting menu, and the lady will have
whatever wine she wants with the meal.”
“I love serving a couple falling in love,” the server sighed, waltzing away
with the menus and a spring in her step.
Beth studied Chris’ face at the server’s comment to see if it made him
uncomfortable, but his eyes only confirmed the chemistry flaring up
between them. He seemed to study her reaction as closely. The sexual
tension built as their eyes met and held until she looked down to take
another sip of her margarita. Bon Dieu. The temperature in the restaurant
had definitely risen to the point of being uncomfortably warm.

Chris had to admit the price of the meal had been worth it. The food was
excellent, and watching Beth moan over bites of fish and sauce, and at the
end, a decadent chocolate mousse, had him hard as stone. He fully intended
to hear those sounds again while he eventually feasted on her in bed. Not
tonight, but soon. Though he’d originally planned on earning a fast
invitation directly into her bed when he’d asked her out, during the drive
into Santa Fe, he’d realized that wasn’t the point of this date. Sure, he still
wanted to get that invitation, but only after he’d earned her trust. Their
physical chemistry was off the charts, so the sex was going to be good, but
he was wondering what would happen if the sex included an emotional
connection as well. And, though he was inexperienced on relationships, he
knew that type of connection had to take time for a woman.
Their conversation over the food had been a combination of flirting,
story-telling, and laughter. There hadn’t been a dull moment. She told funny
stories about being a teacher, and he’d entertained her with some of the
crazy things that had happened on job sites while building everything from
retail to residential structures. He told her about his dogs. It was only as the
meal drew to an end they’d lapsed into contented companionship. He
couldn’t remember a night he’d enjoyed himself more.
Sated with the meal, and for Beth, two glasses of wine, they were quiet
on the drive back to Agua Pecos. The radio played contemporary country
music softly in the dark. Chris felt a comfortable sense of peace and
contentment. The only other time he’d felt anything like it was when he’d
finished a challenging building project, or he was heading out for a long
ride on his Harley.
Beth didn’t talk or try to fill up the quiet with shallow chitchat. Chris
appreciated that about her. She looked over at him and smiled happily
before turning to take in the night desert, lit by a waxing moon approaching
its lunar state.
The last time he’d spent an hour alone with a woman was at the
clubhouse. Decent women, mostly guys’ old ladies, showed up for family-
friendly events, but they didn’t come around much on the weekends. Those
party nights were about carousing, drinking, and releasing tension with
casual sex, and the women who came those nights had sex, the hard and fast
kind, on their minds. For some reason, they got off being used by strangers.
The last time he went to the clubhouse—shit, had it been almost three
months?—the younger woman who’d targeted him for sex had practically
gabbed nonstop through the whole encounter, even when he had her bent
over a couch, her skirt shoved up and his cock slamming her from behind.
She was a cheerful person, with excellent tits, but she wouldn’t stop talking
about things he didn’t give a rat’s ass about, like how hard it was to find a
good hair stylist, and how she was looking for a new job because her boss
wouldn’t give her Fridays off when she wanted them. In fact, he’d struggle
to stay hard, and he’d eventually pulled out in the state of going soft, and
passed her along to a fellow biker, saying he couldn’t enjoy sex and give
job advice at the same time. A buddy had laughed and taken his place,
claiming he never listened to what women said so she could talk about
whatever she wanted. The girl hadn’t minded the trade-off one bit. That’s
how impersonal the encounter had been. He never wanted Beth to know
those kinds of details about his life. She’d be horrified.
To be honest, Chris didn’t know if he hadn’t been back to the club
because he’d grown tired of the sex and partying, or whether his
embarrassment at losing an erection for the first time in his life had scared
him clear of the place. Every day, he’d promised himself he’d make an
appointment with the doctor, but every day, he found an excuse to postpone
it. Some of his other buddies had stopped going to the clubhouse weekend
parties years ago, and not all because they got married. They’d tired of the
scene faster than he had, or they’d run into the same issue he was
experiencing, a limp dick. Most of them were in their 50s now.
Of course, seeing Beth get out of her car at the truck stop had sparked his
desire for the first time since he couldn’t remember. Running into her at the
DMV allowed him to briefly touch and smell her, confirming his physical
attraction. Then the run in at the grocery store, where he got to experience
her sense of humor, sparked his interest in her as more than a potential hot
fuck. Each time he saw her, his attraction to her intensified.
No matter how crudely he talked about sex with Beth, in truth, he wasn’t
thinking about shoving up her skirt and fucking her over a couch. Well, not
exclusively. Not every second. Certainly not in the company of other
people. Some of his fantasies in the last week had been more leisurely, more
private, more suited to all night in a big bed. In fact, the idea of being at the
club where other guys might see Beth without her clothes on made him see
red.
He’d fantasized about taking her to bed, alone, undressing her and
putting his mouth on every inch of that fine skin, and then sliding into her
as deep as he could go, and then rocking slow and steady, letting the tension
in their bodies build little by little until her climax triggered his. He’d
fantasized about waking her up in the middle of the night with his mouth
and tongue between her legs, licking her until she moaned and screamed.
He’d fantasized about her climbing onto his morning wood and riding it
through the sunrise, into a new day. Whenever he smelled her clean, floral
scent, he’d imagined taking her under the shower, against the slick tiles, her
legs wrapped tight around his hips. None of his fantasies played out as a
fast and furious fuck, yet. In fact, all of them required an extended, full
night—shit, even the whole weekend—of intimacy.
Were his fantasies about her different because Beth was a class act? Had
his mother’s lifelong efforts to raise a man who respected women finally
pay off? Did Beth’s refined beauty and elegant manner make him want to
step up and be a gentleman for the first time in his life? Or was it something
even deeper? A desire to get something more than hot and sweaty sex from
the woman?
He was aware enough to know he wanted to impress her, make love to
her, not engage in a mutual, consenting—but ultimately empty—exchange
of two people using each other to get off. He’d imagined cuddling up with
Beth on the sofa, his dogs lounging at their feet, while they watched a
fucking movie. Jesus. If he was imagining them watching a cliched, sappy
chick flick, he was losing it.
He stole a glance at Beth and realized she’d dozed off, her head lolling
off to the side against the passenger window. He snorted. While he was
having a mid-life crisis, she was taking a nap. Figured.
He snuck looks at her the rest of the way back to their road. She was a
quiet sleeper, breathing slow and steady through her nose. Her pale skin and
long pale hair glinted like platinum in the moonlight, highlighting the silver
strands. Like a Greek goddess at rest. He was a fucking poet now. She
looked peaceful though, and Chris felt a surge of protective ownership rise
in him, thinking about how she must trust him to fall asleep while he was
driving. He liked the idea.
Trust was one of the most important values in the world to Chris. His
friends trusted him to cover their asses and keep them out of trouble. His
employees trusted him to treat them well, pay them even better. His clients
trusted him to build safe, solidly constructed buildings that would weather
the years. Chris’s daughter trusted him to help her out if she got into
financial trouble or to show up if a guy threatened her. His mother and
sisters trusted him. He’d never yearned for a woman’s trust.
To hold Beth’s trust within his reach, to know she put her safety and care
into his hands? Somehow, that felt even more personal. Beth needed
nothing from him. Beth didn’t depend on him. Her trust was a gift. The
possibility he could lose the beginnings of her trust by fucking things up
with Beth caused his chest to ache. The thought that he could deepen and
expand her trust felt like a life calling. Not taking Beth to bed tonight was
going to require all his self-control, but for the first time in his life, he
wanted something more than he wanted a good time.
Turning from the highway onto the dirt road fronting their properties
caused the truck to bounce, jostling Beth awake.
She stretched and yawned big, blinking her eyes into focusing on where
they were.
“Oh my god, did I fall asleep on you? What a horrible date I am!”
She covered her cheeks with her palms, wiping away what might have
been drool alongside her lips. He hid a smile. She flipped down the visor
and inspected herself in the mirror. He wasn’t sure what she’d see in the
low lighting.
“I didn’t snore, did I? Gosh, this is embarrassing.”
The woman used the word ‘gosh.’
“No snoring, but you did a lot of talking.”
She slapped his arm lightly.
“No, I did not! I do not talk in my sleep.”
“I’m pretty sure I know what talking sounds like, even when it’s talking
in one’s sleep,” he teased her.
“Okay. What did I talk about?”
“Well, that would be ungentlemanly of me to repeat. But let’s say it was
accompanied by some moaning and restless shifting. I might have heard my
name mentioned a few times.”
“What?! Okay, now I know you’re pulling my leg.”
Chris chuckled.
“You are an evil man, Christopher…Christian…Johnston.”
She had no idea. What would happen if she found out about the life he’d
been leading, well, his whole damn life? He set that concern aside for the
moment.
“It’s Christopher, if you must know. I’ve told you to call me Can-Can.
And you’re cute when you’re sleeping.”
She shook her head in denial. “I haven’t been cute since I was sixteen.”
“Okay, you’re beautiful when you’re sleeping.”
“Chris…Can-Can, you know flattery will get you nowhere?”
He caught her hand in his because he couldn’t not touch her.
“Are you sure about that? I’ve heard women expect to be complimented
by men.”
 “I’m sure some women do, but I do not expect compliments unless I’ve
earned them. Appearances aren’t something people have much control over.
They’re an accident of birth.”
“So, you know you’re gorgeous.”
“I’m not gorgeous,” she squeaked. “I’ll have you know I was a late
bloomer. A very late bloomer. I wore braces and glasses throughout middle
and high school, and I was as scrawny as a scarecrow. My friends called me
Slim-Jim throughout adolescence. I wasn’t able to shake the name until I
went to university. I didn’t fill out until the second year of college, which is
when I got asked out on my first date.”
Chris looked at her in disbelief, ignoring his driving and letting the truck
slow to a crawl before speeding up again, but not by much. He was in no
hurry to end the night.
“Plus, I’m not gorgeous now either. I’m over 50, with gray hair and
wrinkles. My chin and my arms are sagging.”
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Stop cataloguing your imperfections as if they make you less stunning.
The first time I saw you, back at the cafe, you set my heart racing.”
“At the cafe?”
“Yeah, the cafe.”
“I thought we first met at the DMV.”
He grinned. “We met there, but I saw you, and your gorgeous ass, at the
cafe.”
She flushed red in the low light, realizing something.
“You saw the wind blow up my skirt?”
He squeezed her hand, which he still held.
 “And, lord, what a vision it was. I thought an angel had landed on earth
from the heavens above.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. Stop talking about it. I had hoped no one saw it
happen.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”
She frowned at him. “And then you saw me at the DMV, recognized me,
and came over to sit next to me.”
“Yep.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And the grocery store?”
“Well, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who came over to me that
time.”
“You didn’t know I was there?”
“I didn’t, and I would have wanted to slap myself if I’d have missed
you.”
“Sliding doors,” Beth murmured.
“What’s that?”
She shook her head. “It’s a saying. There was a film called Sliding Doors
about a couple…never mind.”
She tugged her hand free. “Well, there’s my house ahead.”
Chris turned into her drive and navigated up to her front gate. He put the
truck into park and shut off the engine.
Beth looked like she was about to bolt.
“Thank you for dinner. It was the best meal I’ve had in a long time and I
had a wonderful time.” She reached for the door handle.
“Don’t you dare,” he told her. “I’m coming ‘round to help you down this
time and to walk you to the door. You didn’t leave the porch light on and I
don’t want you stepping on any sleeping rattle snakes.”
 “Uh…okay.”
Chris got out, circled the truck, and opened the passenger door. It was
with great pleasure he put his hands around her waist and lifted her out of
the truck, setting her down against his stomach, trapping her between him
and the truck briefly before stepping back. He slipped his arm around her
waist and guided her up the steps and to her door.
Fortunately, there were no snakes lying about to ruin the end of the date.
He waited as she dug out her keys, opened the door, and reached in to turn
on the outside lights.
“So,” she shifted from foot to foot, “I’d invite you for a drink, but it’s
late.”
“I agree. Do I get a goodnight kiss?” Who knew he could be a thoughtful
gentleman? His mother would be so proud.
She bit her lip and looked up at him from under her long eyelashes. After
a moment, she nodded.
All the invitation he needed. He cupped her face with his hands and
tipped her lips up to his. He took his time, kissing her slowly and sensually.
After a moment, her lips parted, and he slid his tongue in to tangle with
hers, deepening the kiss into an act simulating sex. She moaned and slid her
arms around his back and pressed up against him. He knew she could feel
how hard he was against her stomach. No issues with his dick around Beth.
He ended the kiss as it was burning out of control. He brushed his thumb
across her swollen bottom lip.
“God, you taste amazing. Better than any fancy meal.”
He enjoyed the dazed look on her face, but he stepped back and let her
go.
“Good night, Gorgeous. Talk to you tomorrow.”
 Then, against what every muscle and cell in his body clamored to do, he
descended the steps, got in his truck, and drove home. It was going to be a
challenge to live so close to her.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Six

BETH WASHED HER FACE and brushed her teeth, then changed into a set
of comfortable cotton pajamas before crawling into bed. The silence of the
desert night was still unnerving after living in a busy urban setting for most
of her life. She figured it would take her at least a few weeks to get used to
hearing nothing more than the wind, rain, or an occasional hooting owl or
howling coyote. Tonight, there was no wind or rain, and all she could hear
was utter silence. Had she ever been somewhere in which there was no
sound? There were sounds, though. The old wood in the house creaked,
cracked and settled, the ice maker in the kitchen made an occasional
clunking noise, the bathroom faucet across the hall dripped a slow, steady
drop of water, the plunk a soft sigh against the porcelain sink. She mentally
added the faucet to her list of household repairs.
Minutes ticked by. Beth tossed and turned, twisting her fresh sheets into a
tangle. She’d eaten and drunk far more than usual, and the nap on the drive
home meant she was restless now and sleep eluded her. If the multi-course
meal, alcohol, menopause and the nap didn’t disrupt her sleep, then that kiss
was sure to do the trick. Her body felt tense, wound up, like she was
waiting at the starting line of an important race.
Chris knew how to kiss like a pro. During the kiss, she’d learned what it
felt like to swoon. If Chris hadn’t been holding her steady with his hands,
she would have tilted off balance. She lost awareness of everything around
her except him, and his hands, and his lips. The man had talents far superior
to Kyle. He could have picked her up, carried her to bed, stripped her, and
made love to her. She wouldn’t have voiced a single objection. But then he
pulled back.
Who knew worn blue jeans and a scraggly beard could hide such a
gentleman beneath their surface? What had happened to the bad boy he’d
first shown her? Who was this Chris? Wild biker or respected businessman?
A one-night stand or something more? He was sending mixed messages.
Crude and macho in one moment, romantic and tender in the next.
Of course, there was no mixed message in that kiss and what he did with
his tongue. And calling her Gorgeous like it was a nickname? Somehow,
because of her age, and years of feeling unseen by Kyle, and Kyle’s having
an affair with a younger woman, it felt more affectionate and personal than
dear or darling or honey. It felt like he used the term to both appreciate her
and as a promise of what he planned to do to her. Or it was the deep tone of
his voice, the way it slid over her skin like he was touching her with his
hands.
Suddenly, she realized Chris was dangerous in a completely different
way than she first imagined. She frowned, pondering this new dilemma.
She’d moved to New Mexico, and out into this isolated property, in order
to focus on herself and to write. She’d only been here a few days, but she
hadn’t written a word. Of course, she’d been busy running around taking
care of errands, unpacking, setting up the house and settling in. Yesterday,
she’d toyed with the idea Chris would be a fling, her first, nothing more
than a good time, and research for spicing up the stories she wrote.
Tonight’s event suggested he might harbor other ideas.
She grabbed her phone, opened her text app, and sent Penny and Adriana
a joint message.
Beth: 2ND DAY. 1ST DATE. DEF A HG-SY.
Adriana: ES-EN?
Beth smirked as she replied.
Beth: EXCHANGED NUMBER, NO SEX YET. JUST DINNER.
Penny: IS THIS A TRUE LOVE CONNECTION?
She groaned, covering her face with the sheet. No. She did not want to be
caught up in something emotional yet. Maybe, later.
She wasn’t angry about Kyle. Well, a little angry. But she was over him,
and over her marriage. It had been dying a slow death for years, but she
hadn’t accepted it. When they stopped having sex, and started sleeping in
separate bedrooms—he claimed her insomnia and tossing and turning made
it impossible for him to get a restful night of sleep—it felt like they were
experiencing the same thing happening in her friend’s marriages, too. Penny
complained about Pete’s snoring whenever they had to share a bedroom,
like when they stayed in hotels together. Every time they planned a holiday,
she tried to get him to agree to two connected rooms, but he wasn’t willing
to double the money spent on hotel rooms. She and Kyle tried to get rooms
with two queen beds to deal with their issue. She’d gotten used to sleeping
in a bed alone.
She wondered what it would be like to sleep with Chris. Sleep, not have
sex. He was huge, broad, and rock hard. If he spooned her on chilly nights,
she’d never be cold again. He was solid enough to keep her from tossing
and turning. One way she imagined him doing that was rolling over on top
of her and sleeping on her chest, his face snuggled between her breasts and
his hips and legs nestled between her thighs. She kicked her sheets off. She
must be having a hot flash.
She should start writing now, in the middle of the night. She answered to
no one. She didn’t have to get up in the morning for work. She didn’t need
to wait until daylight hours to work. She finished setting up her office
earlier that day. The computer was set up on the desk. Or she could bring
her laptop to bed and write here. She jumped up and hurried across the hall
to the spare bedroom she’d turned into her office. Her laptop was waiting,
fully charged, so she picked it up and brought it back to bed with her.
Powering the machine up, she pondered one idea she’d had on her drive
from California to New Mexico. A former student had finished college,
traveled to France and trained at Le Cordon Bleu, before returning home to
open a café and bakery near Beth’s old home. It was one place she knew
she’d miss, moving away from the coast. Camile’s at the Cove had become
a regular haunt. She and her friends had met there every other Saturday
morning for brunch, while their husbands went fishing.
Camile had once mentioned a handsome French guy she’d left behind
after finishing cooking school, and how she was still half in love with him.
The pictures on her phone had been of a tall, blonde guy with a square jaw
and dark eyes. Beth wondered, what if he followed Camile back to
California? That was the basis of her inspiration.
She needed a good meet-cute scene. Should she start the story in France
before the heroine leaves to return home, or even farther back to when the
hero and heroine first meet? If she planned for it to be a shorter book, then
she needed to start it back in California, after the heroine has opened her
shop and is trying to get over the hero. She closed her eyes and tried to
imagine where she wanted the story to begin. Then she started typing.

Something was vibrating under Beth’s pillow. Groggily, she opened her
eyes to bright sunlight flooding the room. Unlike the main level, this
addition had larger windows, which let in a ton of natural light. She added
sun-blocking window treatments to her mental to buy list. She reached
blindly under the pillow and made contact with her phone.
She almost rolled over onto her laptop, which was still lying open, before
catching herself and pushing it safely out of range of her behind.
Three messages.
She tapped the message app to note she had a message from Penny,
another from her sister in Northern California, and one from Chris. That
was a pleasant surprise. She read them in order of delivery, leaving the most
exciting one for last.
Her sister was checking in to make sure her move had gone smoothly.
That was nice. They’d fallen out of regular contact during the last few years
of Beth’s marriage. She’d been increasingly dissatisfied, and it was
impossible to hide her unhappiness from Erin. Since she’d split from Kyle,
they’d texted or called once a week. She typed a quick update, assuring Erin
she was all moved in, and writing. Only as of last night, but Erin didn’t
need to know the details.
Penny’s message was more worrying. Beth and Kyle’s divorce had
rocked Penny and Pete’s marriage. As couples, they’d done so much
together—regular dinners out, activities, even holidays together.
Apparently, Pete had known Kyle was cheating on Beth and had kept it
from Penny. An unforgiveable sin in Penny’s eyes. It didn’t matter Penny
would have immediately betrayed Pete’s trust by telling Beth about the
affair, causing Pete to betray Kyle’s trust. Ugh. Kyle’s actions had done
more than damage a marriage. They’d damaged four friendships.
Penny: CAN I COME VISIT? I NEED A BREAK.
Beth pondered the meaning. It was still morning here, and an hour earlier
in California. Was Penny having a rough time? Did she need a break from
teaching? A break from Pete?
Beth: YOU CAN COME WHENEVER YOU LIKE.
There was no immediate response. Penny would be in the middle of
teaching second period at the moment. She’d respond on her break. Beth
would try not to worry for her in the meantime.
Finally, she tapped on Chris’ message.
Chris: GOOD MORNING GORGEOUS. DID YOU HAVE NICE
DREAMS LAST NIGHT?
Beth snorted, imagining the type of dreams he’d want to hear about. She
typed in an answer.
Beth: NO DREAMS. BUT I WROTE A COUPLE OF SCENES FOR
MY BOOK.
She hit send.
After a moment, dots appeared, and she waited to see what he was
writing. She stretched out, plumped up her pillows, and waited. And waited.
And waited. How much was the guy writing? Finally, the message came
through.
Chris: U CAN READ IT TO ME.
 Wow. The guy was a slow texter. She chuckled, thinking about how fast
her students texted. Penny taught English composition, and her students
actually typed their academic essays on their smart phones. Put those same
kids on a desktop computer in the lab and their writing slowed down to a
crawl, most depending on the hunt and peck method of typing. She texted
back.
Beth: NOTHING SEXY IN IT YET.
Again, the dots appeared, and what felt like an interminable amount of
time passed. Finally, the message came through.
Chris: I LIKE THE BUILD UP.
Beth grinned. She swiftly responded.
Beth: WATCH OUT. I’LL READ IT TO YOU THE NEXT TIME I SEE
YOU. THAT SHOULD SEND YOU RUNNING AND SCREAMING.
While she waited for a reply, she hopped up, and went to the bathroom to
empty her bladder. When there was still no reply, she figured he must have
been interrupted, so she made her way to the kitchen, and started a pot of
coffee brewing.
She checked the phone every minute or so. When the coffee was ready,
she poured a mug, added sugar and cream and carried it over to the big
couch she’d bought at an estate sale and had recovered. She loved the
striking style of it, but the furniture had to be comfortable. This one was the
perfect blend of form and function. The light in the living room was less
intense in the morning since the windows faced west. She turned on the
internet radio, tuning into a British show she liked to listen to in the
mornings, now that she wasn’t teaching anymore. Her phone buzzed.
Chris: I WON’T BE RUNNING, BUT YOU WILL BE SCREAMING.
 Beth set her coffee down on the table so she wouldn’t spill it, then lay
back on the couch. She texted him back.
Beth: PROMISES. PROMISES. PROMISES.
This time his response came immediately.
He’d sent three ON FIRE emojis.
Dots appeared, so she waited, sipping her coffee.
Chris: SEE YOU LATER.
She sighed like a sixteen-year-old girl with her first beau.

“Damn, Boss, are you…humming?”

Chris’s second foreman, Paul, was showing him around one of the job
sites, identifying issues that were going to add a week of delays to the work.
Chris abruptly stopped humming. He didn’t even realize he had been doing
it.
“Nah, thinking out loud.”
Paul chuckled. “That thinking sounds an awful lot like Urban’s love song
‘Someone Like You,’ if we’re playing Name that Tune.
“Hell,” Chris cursed. “You know I hate trivia games.”
“You might as well spill the beans. I’ve been waiting years to see this
happen.”
“See what happen?” Chris knew exactly what Paul meant, but that didn’t
mean he was going to share stories with the guy.
“You, my man, are in luuurve. Finally!” Paul started laughing. “I never
thought I’d see the day. Who is she?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I might be in lust. You know I like women.”
 “Now there’s an interesting but fine detail that needs examining. All
these years, you’ve never hummed about women, plural, so I can only
assume you’re humming a love song about a woman, singular.”
Chris gave him the stink eye.
“Do you want to go for a latte and paint each other’s nails, too?”
“Ah, come on, boss. I had to put up with all your teasing when I fell for
Andrea. You were relentless, gave me grief every day for months.”
“That’s because you were always rolling into work late.”
“Late nights make it hard to be on site by six in the morning.”
“I think the only times you were on time for months was when you didn’t
go to sleep at all. Those days you made so many mistakes, I worried you’d
either end up in the hospital or I’d end up in a lawsuit.”
“Hey. I got back on track.”
“Yeah, when I met and told Andrea I was going to have to fire your ass if
you didn’t clean up your act.”
Paul put on a long, sad face. “That curtailed my late-night fun. No man
should impede another man’s access to sex.”
Chris snorted. “You still got enough action to cover the ice in a hockey
match.” Paul was originally from Minnesota, and all these years later, he
had complained about a lack of hockey games in New Mexico. Now that
Albuquerque had a NAHL team, he’d been in heaven, driving down for
games whenever he could manage it.
Paul grinned. “Who knew twins ran in Andrea’s family? We didn’t expect
to have three sets of them. Now, I’ve got plans to get them on the ice as
soon as possible, since Albuquerque got the Ice Wolves. They are starting
lessons at the ice arena in Santa Fe next spring. Andrea agreed.”
 “I’m not sure Andrea’s going to approve both the boys and the girls
playing, is she?”
Paul shook his head, still laughing. “You have got to come by for Sunday
dinner soon. Little Teresa’s the toughest of the bunch. She’ll wrestle you to
the ground and poke your eyes out while the rest are still strategizing who’s
going for your legs and who’s going for your back.”
Chris grinned, imagining the little brown-eyed girl with pigtails being a
fierce player on the ice. He could see it easy. And he was grateful Paul had
moved onto another topic. Everything with Beth was so new, he did not
know what would happen next.
At that moment, Bill drove up and parked alongside their trucks.
“Guys,” he greeted them as he got out of the truck. “Sorry I’m late. The
owner showed up on the Baxter site and had questions about a change
order.”
“No problem,” Chris said.
“Yeah, we’ve been catching up about personal stuff, like Chris’s new love
interest.”
“Jesus, Paul. I told you to fuck off.”
Bill perked up. “Can-Can’s in love?”
“Apparently so,” Paul continued the conversation as if Chris wasn’t
there. “He’s been singing love songs all morning.”
“Gawd damn,” Chris threw his hands up in the air, feeling frustrated.
“You two are worse than a pair of gossiping grandmas.”
“See?” Paul gestured at Chris like he’d proven his point.
Bill looked like he was trying not to smile. His mouth stayed fixed in a
line, but his eyes were dancing and his cheeks bunched up.
“Course, he won’t tell me anything.”
 Bill looked over at Chris speculatively.
“I figure we can give him space to sort out whether he’s in love without
our help.”
Paul looked at him like he was crazy.
“Don’t you remember how much he tormented me after I started seeing
Andrea? I’ve been waiting for years to get my chance for payback.”
Chris sighed. Might as well get it over with. He crossed his arms over his
chest.
“What do you want to know?”
“Who is she?” Paul asked. “And when do we meet her?”
“No one is in love with no one else. We’ve had a single date.”
Paul grinned. “And you’re singing country love songs.”
Chris shook his head. Paul was 35, but he still acted like the teenager
he’d hired on at nineteen sometimes.
“Her name’s Beth. She just moved into town.” No need to tell them she
lived on the same road as Chris.
“Where’d you meet her?” Paul demanded.
“I met her at the DMV.”
Bill looked thoughtful. “She happen to be leggy with long silver-gold
hair?”
Chris frowned at him. He must have been pretty transparent when they’d
seen her first at the truck stop that day for lunch.
“Maybe,” Chris acknowledged.
“Wait! Wait just a minute!” Paul interjected. “She’s got silver hair? How
old is she?”
Chris narrowed his eyes at the man. “Same age as me. Got an issue with
that?”
 Paul staggered back in exaggerated shock, clutching his chest and falling
back against a stack of drywall.
“You’re telling me not only are you in love, but you’re in love with a
woman over the age of 25? There must be an apocalypse coming.”
Bill stepped forward and cuffed Paul on the head lightly.
“The man’s not in love…yet. And I’ve seen the woman. She’s a class act.
Exactly what Chris deserves in his life. Come on now. Let’s get this
inspection over. I’ve got to be out at the strip mall site before lunch.”
Paul pulled out his notebook and gestured to the back of the building.
They headed off, leaving Chris to think about his changing life, and drive to
his office. Might as well enjoy a few hours of peace before his secretary got
word of his dating someone. She’d be worse than Paul with her
commentary. Before he started the truck up, he checked his phone in case
Beth had sent any new texts.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Seven

AFTER SEVERAL STRONG CUPS of coffee—that triggered a caffeine

hangover—Beth read through and revised the two scenes she’d written
during the night, and add another scene to the draft. She’d thought of a
dozen different meet-cutes for her two protagonists, and eventually wrote
the scene, but she was already unsatisfied with it. In California, she’d been
part of a romance reading group, but never a writing group. She wondered
whether she should try to find a group here. Writing in insolation sounded
good a year ago, but the downsides were already emerging. How did she
know if what she was writing was any good? Connie had offered to be a
beta reader, but only once a book was written.
She searched online and didn’t find a local group, but she found a group
in Albuquerque with a website announcing they were having an online
presentation the following weekend, by an author she recognized, and it
was on creating compelling meet-cutes, so she signed up to attend it. When
she’d bought this house, her number one requirement was good internet
access. Luckily, this rural road had been wired for cable many years before,
and the cable company offered high-speed internet.
 So far, in her two days here, the service had been reliable. She’d had no
trouble getting online, and the streaming of shows and movies had been
decent. She shouldn’t have any trouble attending an online meeting. The
internet also meant her smart phone could now use her wireless network for
most of her requirements since cell reception was weak this far from the
nearest cell tower. She’d programmed her phone to use the Wi-Fi after
breakfast. She didn’t want to miss any calls or texts.
Her thoughts kept straying to Chris, their date, and that goodnight kiss.
She didn’t remember her body responding quite that way to a kiss before.
Of course, she’d read about such kisses and physical reactions in romance
books, but had wondered whether they were exaggerations created to
enhance the fantasy in the books. Apparently, they were not.
Still, was Chris the spark intensifying her desire, or was it the idea of
being with someone new, someone so unlike any other men she’d known,
someone so masculine? She’d never kissed a man with a beard before and
she discovered it was a huge turn-on for her. While his beard was
surprisingly soft, his lips had been even softer. Almost like a metaphor for
Chris: rough on the outside, but soft on the inside. The guy had helped raise
a kid he hadn’t planned on having, even with a woman he clearly didn’t like
or trust.
Better than soft on the outside and cold and mean on the inside. Her ex
hadn’t been cruel, exactly, but as the years progressed, he’d been
increasingly indifferent. Increasingly selfish. They rarely fought, but that
was a credit to Beth’s decision not to engage in petty arguments.
She had been a little cold herself. As she thought about it, whenever Kyle
had started in on her, trying to instigate a fight, she’d repressed her own
anger, modulated her temper and did her best to deal with him in the same
manner she’d handled her high school students when they were acting out.
Usually, after only a few minutes, Kyle had shaken his head and left to be
somewhere else—the study, work, the bar on PCH not far from the house.
When he returned, they’d acted as if they had not had a disagreement.
Not that Beth didn’t want to fight; it was that she didn’t want the fighting
to devolve into name-calling and insults. Since that was Kyle’s fallback
strategy whenever he couldn’t convince her to agree with him about
something, she’d done her best to shut their disagreements down logically,
using a calm, no-nonsense demeanor. She thought it was better to avoid
arguments altogether than to tear each other down, using words like
weapons. In fact, she’d become so sensitive to the early signs of a
conversation derailing towards a fight, she’d learned to employ evasive
strategies of her own simply to sidestep the problem.
But couples are supposed to fight, at least once in a while. Still, she did
not regret refusing to engage in damaging and unkind behavior. She’d been
lucky to grow up in a home where disagreements were addressed fairly and
compromise was the norm. If she was ever going to be in a relationship
again, disagreements would have to be handled like they’d been in her
family growing up. She’d tried to impose the approach on her marriage, but
had ultimately failed. Did 30 years of engaging in dysfunctional fighting
affect her own skills? It was one thing to take an aloof position when it was
with students, a position of superior knowledge, and another to do so with
another adult.
She wondered how Chris would handle disagreements?
She and Chris were older, more mature. If they continued to date, she
knew they’d eventually disagree on something, especially having lived such
different lifestyles. She made a conscious decision to pay attention to how
Chris behaved when they had a disagreement. If he got mean or controlling,
she’d cut off contact. The beauty of being older, of starting fresh, was she
would set boundaries she’d never set when she was younger. She knew
herself, and what she wanted from her relationships with people now. She
knew she didn’t want to be with someone who used disagreements to strike
out and hurt others. She’d rather be alone than have challenging
relationships.
It was the same with friends. She’d lost friends over the years as interests
changed and as she changed. Life felt short and precious, and she didn’t
want to spend a day of it in the company of someone she didn’t enjoy being
around. Plenty of people were nice, but it didn’t mean they had enough in
common to be around each other. She thought about one friend from work,
Shelley, who’d actively tried to talk her out of her plan to write romance
novels because they were nothing more than fluff. Shelley didn’t
understand Beth’s love and appreciation of the genre, since they were both
college-educated and well-read in the classics. In truth, lots of romance
readers were college-educated, as were the authors who wrote. At least a
few of her favorite authors had advanced degrees in history and English.
She smiled, thinking about how Chris had been open to the idea she
wanted to write romance novels. Of course, he told her he’d barely made it
through high school, so he wasn’t likely to have been turned into a literary
snob like many of her friends with college degrees were. That brought up
another concern of hers, though. One thing her ex and she had shared was a
love of reading. Granted, Kyle read nonfiction business books for self-
betterment, while she read novels. But they kept a regular habit of reading
together over the years.
 On holidays where they spent time on beaches, they had filled the time
with their companionable reading. It had been nice to have a partner who
was content to read alongside her while soaking up the sun and sipping
cocktails. If she dated someone who didn’t read, then when would she read?
She liked to read in the late afternoons and early evenings.
She gave herself a mental slap. She was getting ahead of herself. She
didn’t have any intention of seriously dating, much less living with or
vacationing with a new partner soon. Her time was her own, and no one had
power over what she did or when she did it. The divorce had been like a
weight lifting off her shoulders.
Despite both having busy careers, she’d taken care of most of the day-to-
day life tasks like cooking, housecleaning, laundry, and paying the bills.
She even managed the maintenance of her own car, getting it serviced and
filling it with gas. They didn’t pay for house-cleaning, but they paid for a
landscaper to do most of the weeding. Kyle actually did very little. He
justified her doing most of the work related to the home on the fact she had
a less demanding job. He often worked ten-hour days. It was a point of
contention since she often spent her afternoons and weekends grading
papers in her home office. She’d done her prep work on Sunday mornings
while he golfed. Another thing on the list added to their mutual resentments.
Taking care of only herself now was far less time-consuming than taking
care of the two of them.
So, if Chris didn’t read much? Not really an issue. He’d been a great
conversationalist at dinner, managing the back-and-forth sharing of stories.
He was intelligent and thoughtful. His stories about being a builder had
been interesting and only made her like him more. Over and over, it became
clear he was someone with integrity, someone who liked to do a good job at
a fair price. People hired him again and again based on the quality of his
work. Besides, he’d brought up the idea of her reading to him. She
wondered how many paragraphs she could get through reading a sex scene
before he jumped her. Okay. She could work with the idea.
She got up from the desk and stretched. She was still tired from skipping
a full night’s sleep. She wouldn’t trade sleep for writing next time. She
wondered if an afternoon nap would wreck the upcoming night’s sleep, then
decided a half hour would be enough to refresh her without triggering
another night of insomnia.
She stripped down to her underwear, and since the house was warm, she
crawled into bed without putting on her pajamas. She didn’t set her watch
alarm because she didn’t expect to rest for too long. She dropped off in
minutes.
A firm knocking on her door roused her out of deep sleep. As she opened
her eyes, she noted the light in the room implied the hour was approaching
sunset. Shoot. She’d slept much longer than she’d planned. She threw off
her covers and grabbed a silk robe before going to see who was at her door.
She had a strong suspicion she knew who it was. She peeked through the
peephole and, yeah, it was Chris.
She checked her image in a mirror she had by the door and finger
combed her hair, which was looking a bit wild. Then she made sure her
robe, which had a modest lining, was in place and tied tight, before opening
the door.
“Hi,” she greeted Chris.
He looked her over, his eyes running from the top of her uncombed hair,
down over her bare face, down the V of the floral robe’s collar, down, down
past the knee-length fabric, and over her bare legs and feet. When he looked
up at her eyes again, the heat in them could have started a fire in her kiva
fireplace. Her nipples tightened and no amount of fabric lining was going to
camouflage her reaction to his perusal. His knowing grin stretched across
his face, his teeth gleaming white from underneath his beard. Little Red
Riding Hood wouldn’t have mistaken him for her grandmother with that
devilish face. She sucked in a deep breath.
“Hi to you, too. I brought dinner. I hope you haven’t eaten.”
She’d only had a bowl of soup for brunch, and the aroma coming from
the sack he carried started her stomach growling.
“I guess that answers my question,” he grinned. He tipped his head
expectantly.
“Oh, of course, come in.” He distracted her with his ardent gazes in ways
she’d never thought she’d experience outside her fantasies.
She led him into the kitchen and gestured to the table.
“Go ahead and get comfortable. I’ll go throw on some clothes.”
He set the food down on the table and caught her hand to draw her to
him.
“Wait. I need a hello kiss.”
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her slow and deep. His lips
were so soft and tender, a heady contrast to the rougher texture of his beard.
She was breathless when he pulled his lips away. He looked flushed
himself.
“You don’t need to get dressed on my account. You look perfect to me
the way you are.”
Beth laughed, self-consciously. “You might not mind, but I wouldn’t be
able to relax.” Because she’d be thinking about him sliding the robe off her
shoulders and kissing her between her legs.
 “Okay,” he told her, giving her another, softer kiss on the lips. “But don’t
go to trouble on my account. Anything you put on will be fine.”
Beth hustled out of the room and into her bedroom. Deciding to take him
at his word, she slipped back into the oversized t-shirt and black yoga pants
she’d been wearing earlier. She debated putting on a bra, but she hated
wearing them, so she abandoned that idea. The t-shirt was baggy enough to
obscure the outlines of her breasts. She swept her hair up into a messy bun
and slipped into a pair of fuzzy slippers with bunnies on the tops, a silly gift
from her sister on her last birthday.
When she went back into the kitchen, she discovered Chris had found her
plates, utensils, and a couple of wine glasses, and set the table. He was
opening a bottle of chilled white wine he’d taken from her fridge.
“I hope you don’t mind I’m opening this bottle?”
“Not at all. You brought the food, I’m happy to supply the wine. What
did you bring us?”
“The best BBQ in central New Mexico. A buddy of mine owns a
rundown shack of a restaurant you’d never want to eat at, but the takeaway
is excellent.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to eat there?”
“There are only a few tables, and the last time I ate there, I left with a
splinter in my ass from the rotting wood bench I sat on outside.”
Beth moaned in pleasure at the smells as she unpacked the large brown
paper sack with takeaway containers. It looked like enough food for a dozen
people. Popping the lids revealed short ribs, brisket, polish sausage,
coleslaw, baked beans, potato salad, mac ‘n cheese, corn muffins, and peach
cobbler.
Beth set out the containers in a row on her countertop.
 “That must have been a challenge to remove a sliver in such an
inconvenient place, all on your own. Or did you have someone help?”
“I wasn’t asking any of my friends, that’s for damned sure. I had to sit on
a pillow and drive down to my sister’s place in Albuquerque and ask her to
remove it. She’s a nurse, by the way. But it was still embarrassing. I’m sure
she’ll be telling that story till the day she dies. Hell, she’s my younger
sister, so she’ll probably tell it at my funeral.”
She laughed. The fondness Chris had for his sister was clear in his warm
voice.
“Are you planning on inviting anyone else to dinner? This is a lot of
food.”
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything. Regardless,
it all makes good leftovers.”
Beth added serving spoons and forks to each item, then accepted a glass
of wine from Chris as they loaded their plates and sat down to eat.
“If I hang out with you, I’m going to get very fat,” Beth said, taking a
bite of tender brisket, then moaning at the way it felt apart on her tongue.
“You could afford to put on a few pounds and still look damn good.”
She speared a bit of potato salad and pointed her fork at him. “You say
that now, but once the weight’s been gained, then it’s all, ‘You should have
a salad tonight, honey’ or ‘How many steps did you walk today, dear?’”
Chris reached out and caught her hand, pulled it over and ate the potatoes
off the fork.
“Or you make a habit of eating the food on my plate, so I won’t,” she
teased.
Chris swallowed. “Is that what your ex did?”
 Beth tilted her head at him, contemplating how much she wanted to
reveal about the type of personal criticism she’d tolerated in her marriage.
“Let’s say portion control and regular exercise were frequent topics of
discussion in our house. Needless to say, the topics bore me to death, now.”

Chris shook his head. He might not have always treated women like fragile,
precious individuals, but he’d never cared whether women were physically
perfect or meeting some standard of ideal beauty. He liked women in all
varieties, and as long as he’d been enjoying himself, he hadn’t bothered to
even think about their weight. Since he never wanted a girlfriend or wife,
he’d never associated women as someone representing him. If women were
happy with their looks, then so was he. If he avoided a woman at the club, it
wasn’t because of the way she looked; it was because she seemed unhappy,
clingy, or acted like a bitch.
He was serious about Beth’s weight as well. She could carry more if she
wanted, and still be healthy and attractive. Of course, she was a knock-out,
slender and fit, with smooth, thin legs. He wasn’t so clueless he didn’t know
she was thin and well kept. He figured she wouldn’t be interested in him if
he let himself gain too much weight.
He knew women liked his body, and what he could do with it…or at least
what he’d been able to do with it in the past. But he was no gym rat or
athlete. His body resulted from hard physical labor. Moving all day. Lifting,
carrying lumber and supplies, hammering, sawing, drilling. Tearing down
walls and building new ones. He didn’t do as much labor as he used to, but
he did enough to maintain his muscles. Working in construction was hard
on the body, and he had developed arthritis. Sore muscles didn’t recover as
quickly as they once did. His left knee gave him trouble once in a while, but
otherwise he was in good shape for his age.
He watched Beth eat with gusto. She’d loved the food last night, too.
Someone once said they didn’t trust someone who didn’t enjoy eating. He
was of a similar mind. Life was for enjoying and living, and that led to
aging. Truth was, they weren’t in their 20s anymore, or even their 30s, and
whether or not they stayed thin, they both showed their age—wrinkles,
physical aches and pains, gray hair. Truth was Beth was a knock-out, but he
didn’t think that was the thing making him rethink his priorities and his
lifestyle.
He’d been mulling on it all day. It was a coming together of several
events: age, experience, his health, a little loneliness, and Beth herself. The
lifestyle he’d maintained for decades had grown unfulfilling.
Now, he wondered, had he kept that lifestyle for so long because it suited
him, or because no woman had ever made him long for something
different? Why hadn’t it happened sooner, with a local woman who would
have been…easy? Who would have dropped everything to be with him? For
whom he’d have been a step up in life, a prize?
Instead, here he was, courting this sophisticated woman who was so far
out of his league he didn’t have a clue why she was letting him spend time
with her. She was educated, financially independent, devoted to her own
interests.
He looked around, noticing how settled in the house already looked.
Decorated. The furniture and appliances were top end. The chair he was
sitting on wasn’t purchased at some strip mall furniture outlet, like his own
had been. The hutch along the dining room wall looked to be an antique,
17th Century French, if he guessed correctly. Through the opening into the
living room, he could see the artfully arranged pieces, all looking expensive
and comfortable. He could swear he’d seen that couch in a fancy
architectural magazine a few years back.
He might be a successful contractor, working in the real estate industry,
but he couldn’t afford $10,000 sofas. And he sure as shit didn’t collapse into
them at the end of the day in his dirty work clothes, or put his feet up on
that hand-carved wooden coffee table. He looked down and noted, with
relief, that the kitchen table wasn’t fancy, and though it might have been
expensive, part of its value came from the oak’s worn grooves and countless
stains, acquired over years and polished into a rich patina. It might even
have come with the house. He’d been inside a couple of times when Pearl
was alive, but that was at least two years ago.
“Is everything okay?” Beth interrupted the silence he realized had grown
uncomfortable.
He took a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine.” He took another
bite of his brisket.
“You looked like you disappeared there for a moment,” she laughed,
sounding nervous.
He shook his head and gave her a grim smile. “Thinking about stuff.”
She took a sip of wine. “What stuff?”
“How different our lives have been.”
“Does it have to be a bad thing?”
“No. Sitting here in your house, though, made me realize how out of my
league you are.”
“My house makes you feel like I’m out of your league?”
He gestured at the antique hutch. “How much is that worth?”
 “I don’t know. I inherited it from my great aunt when I was twenty. It
wouldn’t be in my budget these days.”
“Okay, what about that couch?” He pointed through the room opening
towards the living room.
She smiled at him. “It’s true. The sectional is from a design house. But I
bought it secondhand at an estate sale five years ago and had it recovered. I
paid five grand for it then spent another two to get it redone in that fabric. It
was back when I was employed, and married to someone who made lots of
money. Again. Today, it would be too expensive for me to buy. Not new,
anyway.”
Chris looked down and took another bite of his coleslaw, pondering her
explanations, thinking about her outfit from the previous night. Thinking
about that authentic silk robe she’d been wearing when she opened the door.
He hadn’t grabbed her like he wanted to because he was sure he’d snag the
material with his calloused fingers.
“I know it looks like I’m high maintenance,” Beth said, defensively.
“And I have been in the past. It was expected of me, and in the circles
where I ran. I can’t change that about my past. And I will not give up
beloved pieces of furniture or clothing I already own because I couldn’t buy
them today. I’m grateful to have things that will last my lifetime. I’m
grateful I don’t need to buy much. The appliances for this house were my
last big spending splurge.”
Chris started to speak, but she cut him off.
“I’m not going to change who I am, or start buying my clothes at the
warehouse store. I may have made huge changes in my life, retiring early,
moving to New Mexico, trading teaching for writing, but I am not rejecting
the woman I’ve been for decades, either.”
 “Shit, no, I didn’t say I wanted you to do that,” Chris groaned. “This is
about me, not you.”
“So, tell me what the issue is. For you.”
Chris studied her for a long minute.
“We can’t be friends, Chris, if you think I think I’m somehow superior to
you, either financially or intellectually.” The fact she outclassed him on
every level, but didn’t acknowledge it surprised him, something that didn’t
happen much these days.
His humor returned. “What about physically?”
She lifted her eyebrows and deliberately ran her gaze over his face, his
broad shoulders, and his muscled arms.
“I’m definitely not superior to you in that way.”
Instead of grabbing her and hauling her across the table into his lap, he
took a bite of the mac ‘n cheese, chewed for a moment, and then swallowed
the rich, cheesy bite with a swig of wine. He should have sipped it. Fuck
that. Beth was the first woman in 30 years he’d imagined on the back of his
bike. He’d specifically never let any women ride behind him because he’d
seen how the club women had placed a ton of meaning of getting behind a
guy on his bike. They could be as bad as the guys treating people like
territory they owned. Riding with a guy was like a stamp of ownership, both
ways, really.
Somehow, he knew instinctively Beth would feel right on his bike. He’d
be proud to have her there, her long legs hugging his hips, her arms around
his waist. Inside, he yearned to put a stamp of ownership on Beth. And let
her put one on him.
“I’m not interested in being friends, Beth.”
 She looked down at her plate and moved the food around. They’d both
eaten their fill for the moment.
“I’ve thought about it, and I prefer to be friends.”
His heart stuttered and closed up. Then she looked up at him with a shy
smile.
“With benefits.”
Chris went hard as a rock. Apparently, one of his health issues was no
longer a serious concern. Not while Beth was around. He could get turned
on even when he was in danger of getting his heart broken. When she’d
opened her door wearing a robe, he’d struggled to walk into the house
without adjusting himself. He’d carried the bag strategically, and spent most
of the time she was changing clothes, thinking of non-sexy things to rein in
his response to her. And if she thought that baggy t-shirt hid the fact she
didn’t have a bra on, she was fooling herself.
“What do you say we store this food in the fridge and I show you why I
bought that fancy sofa and then had it shipped all the way here from
California?”
Chris stood up so fast his heavy wooden chair nearly tipped over. He felt
like a teenager home alone with his first girlfriend. No, that wasn’t quite
right. He suddenly realized his whole life he’d sought out sex because he’d
been horny. But here and now, Beth was the one making him hungry for
sex. The drive wasn’t anonymous; it was directly tied to the way Beth made
him feel and to the ideas he was having about her.
Beth stood as well, and quickly, without taking much care, they closed up
the food and packed it into the fridge.
Chris went to the sink and quickly rinsed his face and beard, wiping
himself dry with a paper towel. BBQ and beards were a messy combination.
 Beth topped off their wine glasses and carried them into the living room,
where she set them down on coasters.
When she noticed him making note of the coasters, she explained, “Got
to take care of the things I’m not willing to pay to replace, right?”
He kicked off his work boots and tackled her to the sofa. The deep, wide,
heavenly sofa. She shrieked and laughed. They tussled for a moment as he
reached around to knock off her slippers. Bunny slippers. The woman was
sweet as sugar. They should have been a turnoff, but apparently, he found
fuzzy slippers sexy. Then, she was under him, her legs spread to make room
for his hips, and their faces inches apart.
“So, Beth, what benefits are you interested in adding to our friendship?”
She stroked his beard with her fingertips, sliding them through the hair
and sending shivers down his neck.
“We could start with kisses.”
“I like that idea. A lot.”
He moved in and brushed his lips against hers a couple of times. The
passionate kiss from the night before rushed into his mind, and he pressed
for her to open to his tongue. She did, and he dove in, tasting wine, salty
BBQ and Beth. He pushed his cock against her pelvis, seeking contact that
would make her as turned on as he was. She rocked up into him, then
hooked her outside leg up around his back and locked their bodies together.
Propping himself up on his left side, Chris caught hold of the bottom of
Beth’s t-shirt and yanked it up. She helped him by lifting her arms and
pulling the top completely off, flinging it to the floor behind her. Chris
stopped to appreciate how clear and soft her skin looked. He ran his hands
across her skin, traced down her neck with the tips of his fingers, down over
her collarbone, and down between her small, pert breasts.
 “Jesus, I know I keep saying this, but you’re gorgeous.”
He cupped a breast and she arched up into his hand. He played with her
breast, appreciating its firm shape and pink-tipped nipple. They sat high on
her chest, considering her age. He dipped his head and took a nipple into his
mouth, laving and sucking on it before nipping it and earning a cry of
surprise and then a moan. He moved onto the other breast, giving it the
same attention until her nipples were hard as little pebbles.
“This feels like more than kisses.”
“Am I going too fast?”
She moaned. “No.”
“Good.”
Rising on his knees, Chris put her legs together and, grabbing hold of the
waist of her black knit pants, he tugged them, along with her underwear,
clean off her. He gazed with appreciation at her naked body, spread out
under him. Pale, smooth skin that felt like silk as he ran his hands greedily
over it. Not the body of a 20-year-old, no. More delicate, softer, more
fragile. Something that made him want to take care of it, protect it, treasure
it.
“Um…I’m uncomfortable being naked while you still have all your
clothes on.”
“If I get undressed, this is going to become much more than about
kissing.”
“Isn’t it already?”
“Not really. Because I’m still only planning to kiss you all over.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eight

BETH THREW HER HEAD back as Chris came back down over her
without further ado, and attacked her lips again. All she could think about
was what it felt like to be the object of his desire. It felt damned good.
Feeling truly wanted was the biggest turn-on. She slid her fingers into his
hair and clutched his thick locks. In the back of her mind, she marveled at
how soft it was.
Chris moved down her neck, nibbling the skin there, then moving to her
breasts again. Beth had always enjoyed having her breasts touched during
sex, but she couldn’t ever remember having them caressed, kissed and
loved with such intensity.
Chris was more aggressive and rougher than any previous lovers. It
thrilled her and made her want to act with the same confidence and
assertiveness in return. The added stimulation from Chris’s beard only
expanded her pleasure, reminding her she was with a man who didn’t
manscape. The beard, combined with his faint earthy smell of sweat and
sawdust, acquired from manual labor, and Chris’s personal scent, made her
head reel.
 As Chris slid further down her body, she realized it was with the intent to
kiss and lick her between her legs. She felt herself become self-conscious
again. She hadn’t had spontaneous sex in a decade at least, and she wished
now she’d showered and tended to herself before Chris arrived.
“Ah, you don’t have to do—”
Her concerns were cut off when he shouldered her legs farther apart and
slid his fingers through her sensitive folds, parting them to the cool air, then
licked her from her center up to her clit. He pulled back for a moment to
praise her.
“Gorgeous, you are soaking for me. Damn, you taste good.”
Okay, then. She suspected she was growing wet, but there was no
question about it from the excess fluid he was spreading up and around her
clit, stroking his calloused fingers across her skin. Before she could
respond, he was licking, kissing and sucking her with so much intensity all
she could do was cling to his head and submit to the internal rising tensions
driving her towards climax.
He slid one long, thick finger into her, and then two, pumping them in
and out, stimulating her insides, rubbing against the front wall of her vagina
in concert with the play of his tongue against her clit, hitting all the right
spots. That was all it took.
She cried out Chris’s name in surprise as her orgasm crested and flooded
her with pleasure, undulating out across her whole body, out to her fingers
and toes. That was the fastest she’d ever come in her life. She sagged back
against the couch and tugged at his hair to let him know she needed him to
stop.
He seemed to be reluctant, leaving a dozen parting kisses, but he pulled
his fingers free and shifted up to give her a long, wet, dirty kiss on the lips.
She tasted herself on his lips and his beard. His worn t-shirt brushed against
her stomach, his jeans rough against her calves.
She directed his head up with her hands and they stared into each other’s
eyes for a long moment before he kissed her again and then flipped them
around so she was sprawled out across his big body. She could feel the firm
bulge of his cock against her hip.
“Don’t want to crush you.”
“I wouldn’t notice if you did,” she sighed, laying her head down on his
chest in contentment, still breathing fast. His t-shirt was soft from many
washings and his beard ticked her cheek. She could doze off. “That was
incredible. Give me a minute to recover and then I’ll take care of you.”
“This isn’t quid pro quo, you know.”
She slid her hand down over his crotch and boldly cupped his hard cock.
“Did you enjoy giving me an orgasm?” she asked sweetly.
“Hell, yes. I intend to make you come a couple more times before the
night ends.”
“Well, good luck with that. I’m two seconds from blacking out. If I don’t
have something to do to occupy my attention, like play with this,”—she
squeezed him— “then you will not be able to succeed with your evil plan to
kill me with pleasure.”
He chuckled.
“That was cheesy, right?”
“You can be as cheesy as you want, Beth, if you keep touching me. It’s
the only thing stopping me from coming in my jeans like an over-excited
teenager.”
Beth took a deep breath and pushed herself up with renewed purpose.
She’d never been assertive in bed, and the books she read and wanted to
write described scenes often lacking the anxiety that went with being naked
with someone for the first time. She positioned herself directly over his
hips, settling so his arousal was tucked tight against her vagina opening.
“Time for you to get naked too,” she said, tugging his shirt up. He helped
her pull it off, over his head.
His chest was furred with brown and silver hair, and she took a moment
to pet it, combing her fingers through the short coarse hair, admiring the
muscular shape of his pecs underneath. His skin was tanned as dark as his
arms, suggesting he spent time outside without a shirt on. Chris watched her
face intently as she caressed him, stroking across his chest and over his
bulging biceps.
“You don’t have as many tattoos as I expected.”
“Is there a goal?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Nope. What’s this one about,” she asked, stroking his left arm, tracing
the tribal letters and motorcycle in black.
“That’s the club mascot.”
“Your motorcycle club?”
“The one I ride with, yes.”
“And this tattoo?” she asked, studying a bouquet of four roses in red and
black, bound by a braided rope.
“That’s for my mom, my sisters and my kid.”
She poked him in the chest. “You’re a big softy, aren’t you?”
“Does this feel soft to you?” He thrust up against her, and she giggled.
“How long are you planning to distract yourself with the top of my
body?”
She pinched his nipples. “Til right now,” she teased smartly, giving him a
coy smile, and slid her hands straight down to his belt buckle. She struggled
for a moment to unhook it, then she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.
“Such a big buckle. Very cowboy of you,” she said, “except this buckle
features a Harley Davidson on it instead of a horse.”
“My Harley is my horse.”
“Do you ride often?”
Chris groaned as she reached inside and encircled his hard cock with her
bare fingers.
“Can we talk about it later? That’s not ride I’m interested in at the
moment.”
She smiled at him, the humor in her eyes showing him she was a
dangerous tease.
“Certainly.”
She climbed off of him and tugged his jeans off. Finally. He lifted his
hips to help, and she dragged the jeans and his boxers off at the same time.
She tugged each sock off as well, and tossed them on the floor.
Then she remained standing to admire the big man laid out before her. He
had a flat stomach, muscular legs, and a nice, long, thick cock. She
imagined what it would feel like sliding into her. She licked her lips, and it
bobbed.
“Beth, I warned you taking my clothes off was going to lead to more than
kisses.”
She let her eyes trail up his body. She met his eyes.
“Do you have a condom?”
“Hell, yes, I have a condom. I got a new pack out in the truck, too. Just in
case.”
She grinned.
“Is that a warning or a promise?”
 “With you, I hope it’s a promise.”
“First,” she told him primly, as she swung her leg over him so she could
sit on him again, “I get to do some of the kissing.”
She skooched down so her face was over his cock. He watched her take it
in her hand and stroke it once, twice, his gaze growing hot and fierce. The
skin was soft and loose over the steel underneath. He was uncircumcised,
and she liked the extra skin and the way it moved under her strokes.
“Don’t take too long.”
“Is that an order?”
“No, it’s a plea,” he choked out as she bent down and opened her mouth
over the head to give it a quick suck.
“Jesus,” he moaned and grabbed hold of her hair, wrapping a chunk of
her long locks around his fist.

He was going to have a heart attack, no question about it. He’d had plenty
of blow jobs over the years. In fact, it had been his primary means of
getting off at the club. Not that he didn’t enjoy fucking; it was that he had
always enjoyed getting serviced more than he’d like doing the servicing. He
knew it made him a selfish bastard, but the women who spent time out at
the club seemed to like the power exchange of playing the server. It was
sick, but it was reality. And it was consensual.
The power exchange had never bothered him until now. More often, it’d
turned him on. Being with Beth, it didn’t even seem like he was engaged in
the same activity. The blow jobs he’d gotten at the club had been
performances more than anything. The women competed for reputations of
being the best. Because the women were indiscriminate about who they
blew or fucked, he’d always used condoms regardless, even for blow jobs.
It had made little difference to his basic pleasure. He came. The protection
gave him peace of mind.
He didn’t want a condom on now. He wanted Beth’s bare lips and soft
tongue directly on his skin. He wanted to feel every nuanced sensation. Her
hot, wet mouth. Her soft lips.
Beth was no master, but she mastered him nonetheless. Watching her put
her luscious mouth on him, and feeling her lips and tongue kissing, licking
and sucking his cock simply left him wrecked. He felt…he felt. That was it.
He felt like he was in the present moment. Nothing else mattered. Being
here, skin-to-skin with this woman. If they were performing, it was about
pleasing each other. Even though they had only met, the attraction was
more than physical. The intimacy that came with the sex act was the most
powerful emotional experience of his life.
Though nothing had ever felt as wonderful as Beth kissing him like this,
he knew he wanted to be inside her. He wished he could be inside her bare,
but he hadn’t had a health check since the last time he was with a woman,
and he might put Beth at risk. Shit. He shouldn’t have even let her go down
on him.
“Beth, honey,” he coaxed her head up.
“Yeah?” she looked up at him, her lips beautifully swollen but a question
in her eyes.
“We should use a condom.”
“For this?” She pointed at his cock, quizzically.
He knew most couples didn’t use condoms for oral, but didn’t want to
explain about his shady sex history, so he smiled wryly at her. “I should get
tested to keep you safe.”
 “Okay. Well, you do that. I’m clean. I got tested after I found out my ex
was cheating on me. Needless to say, we didn’t have sex after that
revelation.”
“I got tested less than a year ago, and I was clean, and I’m usually more
careful than I’ve been today. I haven’t had sex without a condom since I got
tested. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
How had this scene gotten so awkward so fast? He closed his eyes. They
were adults. They should have had this conversation first.
His eyes flew open as she grabbed hold of his still-hard cock and started
pumping it lightly.
“I think we should find that condom you mentioned, and proceed to the
next stage of the evening. What do you think?”
“Honestly,” he laughed, “I can’t think when you’re doing that.”
She grinned and reached down to the floor to pick up his jeans. She
rooted around in the pocket and pulled out his wallet. He took it when she
handed it to him and he found the square packed tucked in the side pocket.
She accepted the condom out of his hand, ripped it open with her teeth,
removed it from the packaging, and rolled it on to his dick, an act far more
utilitarian than sexy. Didn’t matter her technique, he was thinking anything
Beth did turned him on.
“There we go,” she said matter-of-factly. “All set.”
Then she scooted up, positioned herself over his cock and sank down
with a deep sigh, the way he imagined she’d sound if she were sinking into
a hot bath after a long hike in the New Mexico desert during the cold
winter. Then she rode him.
She braced herself on his chest, and he was grateful for his work keeping
him in shape. His chest muscles were harder than they’d been when he was
twenty. And the way her eyes kept roaming over his flat stomach and its
muscles as he met her down strokes with his upward thrusts made him
realize he cared about how she saw him physically. Taking her out to
dinner, he’d felt like he’d had beautiful arm candy at his side. Maybe he
was the arm candy in this scenario. The only muscles she’d probably
encountered in men back in that rich California seaside town she came from
had been the product of recreational exercise.
His muscles had been honed and maintained over decades of solid, daily
work. He knew women at the club had appreciated his body, what little he
shared of it, by the things they’d said and the way they often competed to
get him off on any party night. But it hadn’t mattered to him.
And no previous sexual encounter had properly prepared him for the
view of Beth on top of him, her tits shaking, her long silky silver hair
fluttering up and down, and sticking to the sweat cresting her brow. He
reached up and cupped her breasts, massaging them, sliding his thumbs
across her tight nipples. She arched approvingly into his palms and moaned
out loud.
His balls tightened up. If she didn’t come soon, he was going to lose it.
The pleasure of her grinding down on him, creating a heavenly friction, his
hardness sliding against her softness, was better than anything he could
remember. He needed to experience her skin-to-skin next time. He reached
a hand down and pressed it up against her clit. They were wet with her
fluids, and he used them to slide slick circles around and around, putting
pressure on the side of her clit where the nerves were hard and aroused.
“Oh god, Chris,” she cried. One more swirl, and she tipped over the edge
with a soft, surprised cry of pleasure. He grabbed hold of her hips and thrust
up hard and fast. Within seconds, he tumbled after her, experiencing one of
the most powerful orgasms in his life.
“God damn. Shit. Fuck. That was…” He didn’t have the words. He
pulled her down into a sprawl across his body, and she shifted to lay her
head tucked up under his chin. Her long hair spread out over them, sticking
to their sweaty skin. They were both breathing hard.

They dozed for about a half an hour, not moving. When Beth stirred, the
fact they’d failed to address the condom promptly after sex meant they had
a mess on their hands. They managed to both get up and control the condom
without leaving the mess on the sofa.
“Do you want a quick shower?” She gestured at the sticky mess on the
top of his thighs.
“Yeah, I would.”
She showed Chris into the bathroom, and while he showered, she used
the bidet to clean up.
“You don’t see a lot of those in America,” Chris commented as he
stepped out after a two-minute rinse off. “So that’s how you use it.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s a feature I liked about the house.”
He dried off with one of her towels, luxuriously soft towels, of course. In
the past, he’d have derided the idea of owning such frivolous things, being
more of a utilitarian guy, but he could appreciate the sensual pleasure of the
expensive plush material. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age.
“Are you hungry now?”
Beth had pulled on another silky robe, this one matching the color of her
eyes and imprinted with butterflies, making the blue stand out, even in the
low light.
“A quick bite. I’ve got the dogs waiting for me at home, and though I
stopped and let them out to run around for a bit before I came over, they’ll
be wondering where I am.”
“Sure,” she said. “A set of German Shepherds, right?”
He’d told her a couple of funny stories about Zelda and Jaeger at dinner
the night before.
“They have a large enclosed run and big dog house inside my fenced
property, but I bring them in at night. They, uh, sleep on the bed with me.”
He suddenly realized his dogs might not be something Beth would find
acceptable. Fancy bedding and big dogs did not go together. If he thought
she’d react negatively, he was wrong.
She laughed and shook her head.
“You’re a big softy, aren’t you?”
“Nah. I got them as pups four years ago, and I let them sleep on the bed
early on, when they were scared and then, well, that was that. If I try to
shoo them off, they act like I’ve kicked them while they’re down. I can’t
face their forlorn faces.”
Getting the dogs had marked a change in his habits. He’d stopped
heading out to the club as often, started skipping a few beers at the bar with
his work crew after a long day. He’d had the pups to get home to, and then,
it’d evolved into a pattern. The dogs were waiting for him at the end of the
day, and he liked having them in the house. On the weekends, they got up,
had breakfast, played catch and exercised in his fenced acreage, had lazy
afternoon naps and then stayed in to watch a game or movie on the
television. He hadn’t felt lonely, not really. Though the idea of having a
woman around to eat dinner and chat with during the games and shows had
crossed his mind occasionally. At the time, all he could picture were women
from the club, or a nice girl next door he’d categorize in with his sisters,
and it hadn’t felt like a fit. Now, he imagined that woman being Beth. He
liked the idea. Too much.
Shit. He looked at his watch. Eight-thirty. The dogs would wonder where
he was.
“You know, I think I’ll head out.”
“But all the food you brought. You need to take it with you.”
“I brought it for you.”
She raised a dubious eyebrow. Her shoulders were back and her hands
were fisted on her hips, pulling the robe tight across her chest and drawing
his attention to her fine rack.
“I thought you brought it for us to share?”
Chris felt torn. Part of him wanted to stay the night. Find out how nice
it’d be to sleep on soft sheets with Beth curled up along his side. He hadn’t
spent the night with a woman, other than his once-a-month hook-ups with
Evelyn. Another part of him suddenly felt so out of his comfort zone all he
could think was to get the hell out.
Beth’s smile shifted from teasing to forced, as if she’d suddenly realized
that he was bailing on her for more complicated reasons than the dogs.
“Here, let me keep a little to eat, and repackage the rest for you to take
home. I bet Jaeger and Zelda would forgive your being late if you shared
the brisket with them.”
He nodded. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by the past few days. He
needed space to work out what the hell was happening to his simple life of
no emotional ties or obligations.
 She headed for the kitchen, and he got momentarily distracted by the
sway of her hips before following on her heels.
“Beth, I didn’t mean to make this awkward.”
She waved one hand at him as she pulled containers out of the fridge.
“Not at all. Don’t worry about it.”
She popped a few lids, scooped out food onto a plate, set it aside and then
packed everything into the sacks they’d come in. He stood, watching her,
looking at her, undecided.
“Chris. Are you going to drive home wearing my bath towel?”
“Of course not.” He tossed the towel he’d wrapped around his hips onto
the back of a kitchen chair and strode into the living room. He dressed
quickly. When he turned back to the kitchen, she was leaning against the
front door jamb, holding the sacks of food. It all felt wrong. How’d they go
from one of the hottest sexual encounters of his life to this uncomfortable
goodbye?
He wasn’t sure what was happening between them, but he wasn’t leaving
without a proper kiss. He walked up to her, cupped her face and leaned in to
kiss her as softly and as sensually as he could muster. She accepted his kiss,
and when he stepped back and let her go, her smile was softer, more natural.
“I feel like I’m fucking this up,” he told her. “But I’m retreating for the
moment to sort my shit out.”
“I think I suggested we be friends-with-benefits.”
He nodded. “You did.” He paused. “Is that what this felt like to you?”
She looked away, pursing her lips, and he wanted to kiss her again.
“I haven’t been with a man other than my husband for most of my life.
I’ve never had an affair. I haven’t dated since I was nineteen. Honestly, I’m
no expert in this friends-with-benefits thing, other than what I’ve heard
people talk about it.”
“And…”
She looked him in the eye. “We don’t know each other very well. I
enjoyed last night and tonight more than I’d expected.”
“Yeah? So, have I not fucked it up yet?” He gestured between them.
Her eyes warmed at him, and she pushed the sacks of food into his hand.
“Let’s slow this down and work on the friendship part more, and then
we’ll see.”
Chris took the food from her. He still couldn’t quite make his feet move
through the door.
She stepped around him and led him there anyway, opening her door
wide and gesturing.
“See you around, Chris.”
Because he didn’t know what else to do, he walked out, descended her
low porch and got into his truck.
Jaeger and Zelda loved the brisket.

Beth slept like a log through the night. No insomnia. She attributed it to the
amazing orgasms she’d had on her couch—two in one sexual encounter!—
and not to the uncomfortable conclusion of the night.
Even though the night hadn’t ended as wonderfully as it had begun, it had
been real, authentic. It gave her insight into the complex man Chris was
under the surface of his rough, hardened exterior.
On the surface, he presented himself as a no-nonsense, ethical
businessman, running a construction business, who limited his emotional
relationships to immediate family and his two dogs. He was a man who
liked to be seen as masculine and capable.
His stories and references to his dogs and sisters, and even his
employees, suggested he was a decent guy, who was capable of deep and
lasting affection for the people in his life. But the fact he’d resisted or
avoided having an intimate life partner, possibly ever, spoke to hidden
issues. Not that everyone had to couple up. It was that most people sought
out that kind of emotional partnership, usually before age 50. Whether or
not Chris wanted such a relationship, and whether he wanted it with her,
both were concerns falling outside of whether she, herself, wanted
something more than the friends-with-benefits connection she’d proposed.
All the reasons she’d started something with Chris—a desire to go wild,
experience sex with a sexy, virile man, research sex for her writing, and,
hopefully, have a few orgasms—had felt deceptively simple. She should
have known better. When she’d been young, she hadn’t had a single sexual
encounter in which she didn’t expect that intimacy to develop into a full-
blown relationship. The last guy she slept with, Kyle, had followed what
she considered the natural route: dating, exclusive dating, an engagement
and then marriage.
She’d wanted something different with Chris. To see what it was like to
hook up casually. She knew her body and how to pleasure herself. Older
and financially independent, she didn’t need to get married again, or build
up her financial security with someone else, buying a house, acquiring
furniture, building a life together. The only thing she desired was
companionship and someone to play with in bed. She’d been physically
attracted to Chris, a rare event for her.
 She hadn’t forgotten she wasn’t attracted to most men, beyond a general
recognition that they were or were not good-looking by society’s standards.
Guys had come onto her over the years, and she’d always reacted with a
strong and distinct certainty she did not want them to touch or kiss her. Part
of her response had been her loyalty to Kyle, even in the most difficult
times of their marriage.
Several male acquaintances had approached her during the divorce, and
she’d felt no loyalty to Kyle at that point. Still, she’d turned them all down
flat. Their offers had been repugnant to her. They had been repugnant.
She’d thought it was because of their faux concern about consoling her and
making her feel desired, since Kyle had cheated on her with a younger
woman. One man even told her she was twice as sexy as Kyle’s new
partner, even 20 years her senior. Like she wanted to be wooed via a
comparison with the woman who’d played a part in ending her marriage.
The morning after, it looked like, if she found a man sexually attractive,
she wasn’t able to detach from the emotional aspect of sexual encounters.
Her friends had been right. It was because she already liked Chris in part
that she was sexually attracted to him. That hard truth interfered with
fantasies about having flings and one-night stands and easy friends-with-
benefits hook-ups. Turns out, if she considered a man a friend, she didn’t
want benefits. And if she wanted benefits, she wanted more than friendship.
Damn.
Well, the way Chris had grown quiet after the shower and made for the
door as fast as he could, she might not have to worry about getting her heart
broken. She suspected he’d been as affected by their time together as she
had. But if he didn’t want a relationship, there would be no relationship.
Unfortunately, now she knew, despite being older, despite the brevity of
their knowing each other, despite being the one to propose a casual friends-
with-benefits fling, she wasn’t as wild at heart as she’d envisioned.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Nine

AFTER A NIGHT OF disturbing dreams, Chris overslept and showed up at

his office a half an hour late for a meeting with his foremen. As expected,
both Bill and Paul were ready and waiting to give him grief.
“So, the boss finally rolls in.”
“Get out of my chair,” he groused, knocking Bill’s feet off the surface of
the desk from where they were resting on a stack of papers, half of which
landed on the floor. Unconcerned, Bill laughed, got up, scooped the papers
together and replanted them on the desk.
From the ratty couch in the corner, Paul made a ceremony out of
checking the time on his watch.
“Did you get all your beauty sleep, princess?”
Paul sipped what was probably his third mug of tar-black coffee.
“Or you didn’t get any sleep at all?”
“Nah, if he’d been up all night, he’d be in a good mood.”
Bill resettled on the sofa next to Paul while Chris took his seat at the desk
and made a project out of sorting the papers that had fallen on the floor.
“Unless the experience was disappointing.”
 They both looked at him expectantly.
“Shut the fuck up. I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Shit. She turned you down.”
Chris ignored them.
“Where are we at on the strip mall?”
Bill sent a quelling look at Paul, and followed Chris’ shift in topic,
bringing them up-to-date on the strip mall project. Paul followed with a list
of change orders for two of the office renovations they were working on the
east side of Santa Fe. They nailed down the added costs and Chris quickly
worked up a change order on his computer and printed duplicates for Paul
to have the individual owners sign.
“Alright. I’m meeting with Gregson at the truck stop to talk about their
remodel. I guess you two are headed out to supervise the strip mall and the
office remodels, yeah?”
Paul jumped up, hyped on caffeine and a busy day.
“See you both tomorrow.”
Bill waved Paul out, but lingered at the door.
“You okay, Chris?”
Chris rubbed his face and stroked his beard, a nervous habit he knew Bill
caught the minute he did it. He dropped his hands.
“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine.
“You need any relationship advice, I got you covered. Judy and I have
been married for 35 years, and she has all the answers.”
Chris laughed. Judy was never short on advice. He could hear her right
now, with her classic segue.
“If it were up to me, what I’d do is…”
 Bill nodded, rapped the door frame and winked back at him. Then he
disappeared out the doorway after Paul.
Chris turned back to his paperwork. His next meeting was two hours
away, so he figured he might as well work in the office until he had to
leave.
Jasmine popped her head in, her long pigtails hanging down in front of
her protruding belly.
“Do you want me to make a fresh pot of coffee since Paul’s left? I think
what’s left in the pot from his efforts is only slightly better than sludge.”
“Yeah, please. I could use a cup.”
She waddled over to the counter where the coffeemaker and supplies
were stored. She efficiently emptied and cleaned the pot in the sink,
dumped the filter, and started the machine up again.
“When’s your due date again?” Chris asked. He needed to find a
temporary replacement for Jasmine, who only had a month to go before she
popped twins, and left on an extended maternity leave.
“It’s still five more weeks. But I found someone to cover my position
while I’m out.”
Chris looked up in surprise. “Who?”
“A gal I had in one of my classes at the community college. She hasn’t
been working, but she is thinking about leaving her marriage and needs to
work again. She’s coming in next week to meet you. I put it on your
calendar.”
“What’s her name?”
“Mariana Estrada. She’s got three kids.”
“Why is she leaving her marriage?”
Jasmine scowled at him.
 “You can’t ask her personal questions like that.”
“I’m not. That’s what I have you for.”
Jasmine sighed. “He’s having an affair with a woman from his
workplace.”
“Well, shit.”
“It’s crazy. They’ve only been married five years. That’s why I’m coming
back to work after six months. I refuse to depend on a man for money for
anything.”
“Raul’s a good guy. He won’t cheat on you.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And you know why married men
cheat?” It was more of a question than a statement.
“I know lots of reasons why men cheat. And I know why they don’t.”
“Uh-huh. And what makes you so sure my husband won’t cheat on me?
Mariana is the third woman I know in the past year whose husband or
boyfriend has cheated on her.”
“For one, Raul knows that me and the guys will beat the shit out of him if
he does anything to break your heart.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes and poured him his cup of fresh coffee. He
leaned down and took a strong whiff. So good. He sipped it and felt ten
times better than he had when he got up.
“This from a man who’s never been faithful to a single woman. What
about your good old boys’ club?”
Chris held his hand over his heart.
“I have never promised to be faithful to a woman in my entire life, so I
can’t have cheated on one.”
“That’s a cop out, you know. It’s like people who don’t have kids telling
people who do how to do a better job at it.”
 “While direct experience is helpful, people can know about things
without walking in someone’s shoes. For example, in terms of raising kids,
we’ve all been kids who’ve had parents, and we’ve seen the effects of our
parents’ and our friends’ parents’ decisions. Plus, I do read, you know.”
“So, you’ve read about cheating and why men don’t do it.”
“I might have read some articles recently. Not on cheating, but,”—he
coughed—“on relationships.”
Jasmine sat down on the arm of the couch. She refused to sit on the
shapeless cushions. One, they hadn’t been cleaned in years, and two, she
had difficulty getting up again now she was carrying thirty-five extra
pounds. Chris had helped her get up into her truck more than once.
“I heard the guys when you came in this morning. I admit, my
imagination is going crazy. So, there is an official she in your life?”
“There might be. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“Have you gone on a date?”
“Yep.”
Jasmine squealed in glee and clapped her hands.
“How long have you known her?”
“A week.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “That is not a long time. But you asked her out,
and you went out together.”
“I brought her dinner, too.”
“A second date?”
“Sort of.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
“Jesus, Jasmine. There’re things a person doesn’t talk about.”
 Jasmine jumped up and did a little dance. She pointed her finger at him,
shaking her head.
“She’s special, alright. You might not go into details, but you’ve never
shied away from talking about having sex with women before.”
She stopped wiggling around and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Wait. What about the woman in Albuquerque? Evelyn? This about the
time you head down for a booty call, right?”
Jasmine knew about Evelyn because the woman had tracked him down in
the office once when his phone had died and she needed to reschedule their
once-a-month hook-up. Jasmine had been the one to answer the phone and
afterwards, she’d pestered him to no end until he’d confessed he had an
arrangement with the woman.
Evelyn was the reason he knew he needed to see a doctor about, well, his
performance issues. The last time they’d hooked up, he’d been unable to
perform. He was grateful it had happened with an old female friend rather
than at the club in front of dozens of people. Evelyn’s reaction had been to
take it all in stride, kiss him on the cheek, recommend a doctor, and a
prescription, and then sent him on his way.
He’d hadn’t thought about Evelyn all week. He glanced at the calendar
on the wall and groaned. He was due to go down in two nights, armed with
little blue pills.
Of course, he had had no trouble getting and staying hard for Beth.
Maybe he didn’t need to go to the doctor. Maybe…maybe the incident last
month had been a one off. Maybe, he should go down to Albuquerque and
test whether his health issue was physical or mental. Beth would never
know. He got a sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of keeping
something from her, especially Evelyn, which was a strange feeling for him.
Which reminded him he needed to go to the doc to get tested.
The phone started ringing from the front office, and Penny headed
towards the door. She paused, though, and turned back to him, pointing her
finger at him.
“Do not fuck this new thing up, Chris.”
She swept out of the room. Alone, Chris frowned down at the paperwork
on his desk.
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid I’ll do.”

At the truck stop, Chris sipped a glass of ice water and waited for Gregson
to show up. The day had grown hot; the temperatures climbing up into the
90s.
He had the plans from the architect spread out on the table as he checked
over the electrical and plumbing. He marked, in pencil, a couple of
concerns. This job would be the first time he worked with this architect, a
new guy out of Albuquerque who was relocating his business to Santa Fe.
He seemed to be Chris’ age and, when they’d met, he mentioned he was
recently divorced from his wife, but they still lived together. How fucking
weird was that?
A lot of divorces happening. Beth. That woman Mariana. Gregson. Chris
figured if he’d married young, he’d be divorced by now, too. He wouldn’t
have had the freedom to hang out at the club and get regular blowjobs.
That’s one thing he’d always known about himself, and it had driven his
choices to not date or see a woman seriously. He had liked the freedom to
have sex when, where, and with whomever he felt like. A lot of the guys at
the club tried to have it both ways, a woman kept as a separate life at home,
or an old lady who partook in the family-oriented events, knowing what
went on at the non-family-oriented events but putting up with it, and the
easy access to meaningless sex available at the club.
Though Chris did not judge these guys, he knew in his gut trying to have
things both ways would create more drama in his life than he ever wanted
to deal with, and even damage his soul. He didn’t like lying, and he didn’t
like cheating. Both rankled his inner sense of fairness and honor. Guess his
parents’ mantra of the golden rule stuck with him. He didn’t want to be a
cheater or the liar.
The guys in the club he was closest to didn’t try to have things both
ways. A couple of them had old ladies, and they skipped the parties in
which the old ladies weren’t invited. A couple of them were like him,
footloose and free, so they weren’t cheating on anyone. And a couple of
them kept separate lives, but if they attended a party, all they did was drink
and talk about motorcycles and the planned rides. They turned down the
free sex in such a way—meaning mean—the women knew to leave them
alone.
To be thinking about being one of those guys, turning down free pussy;
shit, it felt like he’d gotten onto someone else’s bike.
“Chris, good to see you.” Gregson slapped him on the back and took the
bench seat across from him.
“These the final plans?”
“Yep. They look good. Only a couple of things I’d recommend
changing.”
“Good. Let’s order and we can go over the issues while they are fixing
our food.”
 He grabbed a menu from the holder at the window and opened it.
Alexa swung by their table, her order pad in hand.
“You guys ready to order?”
Chris nodded. “I’ll take the lunch special chef’s salad, no onions. And an
ice tea.”
“You want sugar in that?”
“Nah, I’m sweet enough already.”
Alexa snorted.
Gregson ordered a double cheeseburger and fries, and a soda.
“Those burgers’ll clog your arteries,” Chris warned him.
“Don’t I know it? My ex would never let me order it if she was with us.”
He laughed. “Why do you think I always schedule my meetings with you
here? I can only sneak in junk food while I’m at work. My damn son tells
her everything, so Tammy knows I’m meeting you here today. I’m sure
she’ll be compensating with a low-fat healthy dinner tonight. I’m good.”
“Does it bother you? Your ex nagging after you about what you eat?”
“At the moment, I’m listening to her, I suppose. But the truth is she’s
kept me healthy. Makes me go to the doctor for checkups, keeps my diet on
the up and up. The woman has added twenty active years to my life.” He
lowered his voice. “Plus, well, it never hurts to have access to regular sex, if
you know what I mean.”
Chris frowned. He thought Gregson said they were divorced. Still having
sex with the ex? See, this was why he’d never let a woman move in or
claim a serious relationship with him. Relationships were drama, forwards
and backwards.
“Oh yeah, I forgot you ride your Harley with that bunch of guys, and they
have those wild parties. I guess you get your needs met there.”
 “True.”
He wasn’t telling the guy he hadn’t been to one party in months, or that
he was avoiding them. Gregson said he had a bike, too, but as far as Chris
knew, he hadn’t ridden it in a good ten years. The guy claimed it was sitting
gathering dust in the back of his garage.
“Honestly, for me, as exciting as that club sounds, I’ve always preferred
my ex to every other woman I’ve ever met.” He shrugged.
Chris felt himself getting fatigued by the conversation. Some people
liked drama. He hoped Gregson didn’t bring his drama onto the job as well.
“Okay, what changes do you recommend on the plans?”
Chris went over his notes, but his mind kept wandering back to Beth, to
whether he would prefer her to every other woman for the rest of his life.
The sex had been better than anything he could remember in a very long
time. Maybe ever. Gregson was almost sixty, had been married thirty years.
The fact he still seemed to enjoy that aspect of his now defunct marriage
was another example of a relationship working but being complicated.
Truly, only Bill’s relationship with his wife had stood the test of time in
Chris’ experience. Here was another failure. Hell, there were lots of
examples of failed relationships in his life; he’d been surrounded by
examples. His parents had divorced. One of his sisters was divorced. Paul
was on a second marriage.
One article he’d read, about men and getting older, had referred to the
benefits of marriage. Married men were healthier. Married men were more
stable. Married men had more regular sex. Married men had stronger
emotional connections with the people in their lives, particularly their
wives, and any children, which resulted in lower stress levels and better lab
numbers. Married men weren’t lonely.
 Shit. He loved his dogs and his friends, but there was still a part of him
that felt lonely. At the end of the day, his friends went home to their wives
or children or empty houses. He went home to his dogs, but while he could
talk to them, they couldn’t talk back. If he had an issue to work out, they
couldn’t offer suggestions or even listen in the way a woman could.
“Here we go,” Alexa said, standing over them with their plates. Chris
quickly rolled up the plans and got them out of her way so she could set
down their meals.
“Oh, my god, am I going to enjoy this,” Gregson groaned. He lifted his
top bun and squirted on ketchup and mustard. The sandwich was practically
glistening in fat.
Chris looked down at his salad. A healthier choice, one an imaginary wife
would approve of. He’d learned to take care of himself over the years. He
wondered, though, what it would be like to be Gregson, and have a woman
at home waiting to ask him what he’d eaten for lunch, and to fuss over his
diet and health. Not that he needed one. After all, he’d chosen the healthy
meal all on his own. Still, to have someone who cared.
Beth didn’t seem like the nagging type at all. In fact, she seemed to be
the type to expect a man to take care of himself, or at least share the work.
Speaking of taking care of himself, he something important to do. He made
time in the afternoon to stop by the local clinic to get tested for STDs.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Ten

CHRIS WENT HOME TO let his dogs out after lunch. When he drove up
to the house, he had to contend with a young rattlesnake, curled up and
napping on his front porch. He was glad he hadn’t come home to it after
dark or he might have missed it, or stepped on it. The dogs were vaccinated,
but he still didn’t want to deal with going to the vet and the possibility of
one or both dogs suffering the effects of a bite, even with the vaccine. And
like most dogs, they liked to investigate the snakes that wandered onto their
property.
He went to a side shed and pulled out a makeshift pole with a hook on
the end, scooped up the snake and got it to the fence before it slipped off
and coiled up, tail rattling, head arched to snap. He backed off fast, and
after a minute or two, the snake calmed down and slithered away under the
fence and back out into the desert.
He wondered whether Beth was prepared to deal with venomous snakes.
New Mexico had different types of rattlesnakes and the deadly coral snake,
though he doubted she’d ever encounter one of those in this area.
 Did she have something to move a snake without getting bitten herself?
Was she careful and aware of her surroundings when she left the house,
went onto her property, or even out to her car? City folks with dreams of
living a rural life out in the desert rarely think about the less welcoming
aspects of living in the boondocks. In addition to rattlesnakes, there were
black widows and brown recluse spiders, tarantulas, and scorpions. He
didn’t know a single woman who didn’t freak out at the presence of these
common creatures.
What if Beth got bit or stung? What if she decided living in the desert
was too rustic for her taste and she moved back to California? Christ, his
mind was running away on him. He’d never been this messed up, worrying
about a woman, in his entire life. He wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with it.
For the first time in his life, part of him liked the idea of being the one to
manage and remove these dangers from her life. He’d grown up dealing
with snakes and spiders, and hell, isn’t that what little boys are made of?
He put his snake removal stick away and unlocked his door. The dogs
were waiting, eager for his company and the opportunity to get out of the
house. Since he ran his own company, and generally stayed within a half
hour of his place, he made a point of coming home midday to check on
them and to let them out back to pee. They were an integral part of his life,
and any schedules he kept meant he was always home every night, and
sometimes during the day.
“Out the back, guys,” he waved them to the slider leading from the
kitchen to the fenced backyard.
They trotted over to the door. He put them on leashes for the initial foray
into the yard. If a snake had found its way into the backyard as well, he
wanted to keep the dogs away from it. A brief walk around the yard, with a
couple pauses so they could empty their bladders, showed the enclosed
space to be snake-free, so he let them off the leash. Immediately, they
sprinted into a run, circling the perimeter of the yard, burning off energy.
After a few minutes of running, Zelda picked up one of her toy bones and
brought it to him, so he obliged her by tossing the bone all the way to the
back of the fence. Jaeger joined in the play, racing her to reach the toy first,
and bringing it like a prize to drop at his feet. Unfazed at being beaten to the
toy, Zelda looked at him expectantly, so he threw it again. It took a good
fifteen minutes of chasing after and returning the toy before the dogs
flagged, sweaty and thirsty, in the afternoon desert heat.
“Time to go in,” he told them. “House.”
They loped back up the steps to the slider and he let them back in. They
headed for the bowls of water and took long drinks. When they finished,
Chris refilled the bowls with fresh water and lots of ice cubes. If he had a
woman staying in the house, then the dogs could go out every time they
needed to pee. Beth worked from home. Would Beth like having his big
dogs around? he wondered again.
His phone buzzed with a new message and he tapped the app, his pulse
speeding up. He hadn’t contacted Beth since last night, but maybe she was
contacting him.
It was Evelyn.
Evelyn: R U COMING DOWN THIS WEEK? DID U C DOC?
Chris rubbed his eyes. He should bail on the meet-up. He hadn’t seen the
doctor, didn’t have any blue pills, and didn’t want a repeat of the last time
he’d gone down to see Evelyn. His attraction and response to Beth seemed
to suggest his problem was mental, not physical.
 But if he went to Albuquerque, he might find out for sure if there was
something different about Beth. Or not. If he had the blue pills and he could
get off with Evelyn, then what did that say about his feelings about Beth?
He knew in his head he didn’t owe Evelyn any obligation, and even the
flare of guilt was immediately followed by a sense of resentment. He’d
made no promises to the woman. She’d even said she was only interested in
a good time. For two years, they’d scratched each other’s itch, once a
month, and that was that.
The idea of being with Evelyn again didn’t sit right with him, though. He
couldn’t even work up much interest in seeing her. Why drive all the way
down to Albuquerque for decent sex when he could drive half a mile down
the road for mind-blowing sex? Not that Beth was in the same hook-up
category as Evelyn, no matter how Beth tried to frame their last week
together. Hell, even Evelyn was perfectly nice; he’d never put her in the
same category as the women out at the club. In fact, she was pretty classy
for a guy like him. Shit.
He knew enough about women that if Beth even knew he had women in
categories, she’d block his calls and never speak to him again. Hell, she was
probably a diehard liberal, being a schoolteacher and from California,
basically the bluest state in the country. He was independent himself, and
had voted for candidates from both parties, his vote depending on the
candidate he preferred. Truthfully, though, he’d voted conservative until the
last election. Not that he let his buddies in the club know how his voting
had changed. They’d revoke his fucking membership.
Maybe he was already changing, even before Beth showed up. What he
knew was that a lot of his convictions about life, politics, relationships,
even what he wanted out of life, had been slowly shifting. Or the people he
used to spend time with had changed in a way that didn’t fit him anymore.
Some guys at the club had become increasingly angry and resentful. New
Mexico was becoming more liberal, and they didn’t like it. Chris didn’t
know what it mattered as long as the roads were kept in good shape, the fire
and police departments and schools had the money they need to operate. He
appreciated someone who wanted the job of managing all those services
and maintenance. He sure as hell didn’t want it.
He closed down his texting app and pocketed his phone without replying
to Evelyn. Drama. That’s all this was. The thing he’d tried to avoid his
whole adult life, after growing up in a house filled with drama. The worst of
it was he didn’t think he was going to make the drama-free choice here.
Being around Beth felt too good. Too comfortable, even after a couple of
days. He didn’t believe in soul mates, but he believed in compatibility. Is
that what Beth and he had? Compatibility? They were definitely compatible
in bed, and that was mind-blowing. Now he knew why Bill and Judy
worked. He’d take a brief break. Regroup emotionally, then see Beth again.
Thinking about things he’d never thought about was making his head
hurt, in fact. He took a few pain pills, locked up and headed back into town
to check in with the architect and to oversee the changes to the Gregson job.
What he wanted to do was drive in the other direction, straight to Beth.

Beth wrote two scenes in a sprint of inspiration before stopping for

breakfast, which ended up being the BBQ leftovers, since she hadn’t been
back to the market after getting her appliances installed. She planned to
return today to get some basics at the place, which wasn’t a full-blown
grocery store after all, and drive into Santa Fe sometime the next day to
stock her pantry in full. Heavy rains were forecasted by the end of the week
and she didn’t want to drive into the city on unfamiliar roads during a
rainstorm.
It was only midday, day four of her new life and she already felt like a
real writer, getting up in the morning, having coffee, sitting down at the
computer and filling blank pages with words. No actual deadlines, no boss,
no need to produce anything. She was writing simply to write. Part of the
reason she suspected she was so productive is that she had little
expectations for this story other than getting it written. She’d read over and
over that most writers never publish their first novel. It’s usually a mess,
and that writing well was the achievement of writing frequently over an
extended period.
She’d heard somewhere no one was any good until they’d written a
million words. It sounded both encouraging—most people who wanted to
could get good at writing—and daunting because that was the equivalent of
half a dozen long novels. She imagined those million words also depended
on a writer’s age and life experiences. After all, as a student in public school
and university, she’d written all the time. And as an educator, she’d been
required to write through the years. Of course, none of what she’d wrote
had been fiction.
In addition to general writing, it seemed to her those who read heavily,
from early childhood on, must have an advantage against those million
words as well. She’d consumed a hundred books a year, at least, since her
early twenties. That was ten million words a year, times twenty-five years,
or somewhere around a quarter billion words read during her adult life. She
spent time thinking about and studying what she read as well, in terms of
story structure, character development, and language. She could become
good before she’d written a million words of fiction, but she had no
illusions about this first book. It was her practice book. She wanted to take
risks, stretch edges, play.
She spent the afternoon unpacking another load of boxes and putting
away her belongings. She hadn’t been disciplined about eliminating clothes,
books, or kitchen and dining items for the move. She didn’t want to have to
buy much when she got to New Mexico. And the beautiful chinaware and
crystal from her wedding to Kyle was the least of what she deserved out of
the marriage. The only thing they’d argued over was the fine art work
they’d collected together. In the end, they took turns choosing pieces and
split them fairly. Kyle unfailingly chose the more valuable pieces, but she’d
chosen the ones which made her happy.
Since unpacking didn’t require serious concentration, her mind kept
wandering to Chris. But he didn’t call, and he didn’t message her. She did
her best not to feel disappointed. She ran out to the local shop late afternoon
for enough food items to make a light supper and breakfast in the morning.
She cooked and ate pasta sauteed in garlic, olive oil, frozen spinach and
packaged grated parmesan cheese, pairing it with a basic Sauvignon Blanc.
The streaming services were working, so she picked out a British crime
drama, curled up on the sofa and watched the first three episodes in a row.
The show was interesting, but she kept thinking about what she’d done on
the sofa with Chris the night before. Finally, frustrated at her inability to
stop thinking about the man, she dressed for bed, climbed under the covers,
and downloaded a favorite book she reread whenever she felt restless.
She fell asleep with her reader glowing in the dark.
A wild crack of thunder lit up the entire property, turning the bedroom
bright. Beth startled awake in a fright. A loud rumble of thunder seemed to
shake the ground beneath the thick adobe walls of the house. Then another
strike of lightning hit the earth again, and Beth swore the storm had to be
directly overhead. Then she heard a huge noise in the back of the property,
like something cracking and crashing to the ground.
She jumped up from the bed and ran to the east-facing window, which
looked over the back of the property. It was pitch black out. The cloud
cover prevented any light from the moon revealing what had happened.
Another strike of lightning hit the ground and for a second, she could see
her large Texas umbrella tree had lost a few of its top branches. It must have
been hit.
“Damn!”
Living in southern California all her life had not prepared Beth for this
level of storm intensity. Californians feared fire and earthquakes, not
thunderstorms. Although lightning caused some of those fires, it didn’t hurt
people much by itself. In San Diego, on the coast, the worst of a storm was
the heavy downpour of rain, which could fall thick and fast enough to
obscure visibility and cause vehicles to hydroplane at relatively low speeds,
and dangerous high tides. If you stayed off the freeway and out of the sea,
storms rarely killed you. It wasn’t even raining here yet, and the violent
lightning and thunder had shaken her nerves.
“Welcome to New Mexico,” she told herself dryly. She tried to turn on
the overhead light and nothing happened. Great. One thing she hadn’t
brought with her was a flashlight. And she’d left her phone downstairs so
she wouldn’t obsess over checking it for a message from Chris. She had
candles in the kitchen pantry, though, glad she’d worked on unpacking the
last of the kitchen boxes earlier in the afternoon.
She shuffled her way carefully to the bedroom door and down the steps
of her still unfamiliar house. She moved slowly to avoid injury, but she still
stubbed her toe at one point and cracked her shin against a side table in
another.
“Fuck!”
The thick walls and small windows, along with the black storm outside,
made her feel like she was moving through an underground cave. Rubbing
her shin, she found her way into the kitchen and, along the wall, to the
pantry door. In the blackness, she felt around for the box of scented candles
she’d stored in the closet hours earlier. Unfortunately, she hadn’t yet
unpacked any candle holders.
She pulled a new candle from a set of a dozen, along with the hand
lighter she stored in the same box, and lit the taper. It burned steady. With
the light, she hustled to the kitchen cabinet for a temporary holder, grabbing
a thick mug with a handle. She let hot wax drip into the bottom of the mug,
then carefully positioned the candle upright inside it. She only burned
herself twice.
“There,” she breathed in relief, once the candle was stable and upright in
the mug. “She said, let there be light, and there was light.” She chuckled at
her joke. A faint effort to calm her nerves and not to be afraid, at age 51, of
some weather.
She wandered into the living room, heralding her way with her makeshift
chamber stick. The world outside the house continued to rumble with
frequent lightning and its accompanying thunder. It sounded like the wind
might have come up as well. The house felt like a protective cocoon now,
with the candle broadcasting its gentle glow across the surfaces of her
furniture and the fireplace in the corner. She located her phone in the sofa
cushions and set it face up on the table. Deep breath. Another roll of
thunder shook the house, but it didn’t unsettle her. A few more breaths and
she felt like her heart rate and blood pressure had returned to normal.
A pounding on her front door set off all her nerves again. Shit. She left
the candle burning on the table and approached the door. The heavy Spanish
door didn’t have a traditional one-way peephole. Instead, it had a small
wooden window with an iron guard and a shutter opening inward. If she
opened it, she could see out, but the person on the other side could also see
in. Great. All she needed was for a stranger to be pounding on her door and
discover a woman lived alone here. As she debated whether to open the
little window, her phone binged with an incoming message.
She sprinted back and picked up the phone. A new message from Chris.
She opened the texting app.
Chris: ITS ME. OPEN UP.
“Not creepy at all, Chris,” she muttered under her breath as she hustled
back to the door, filled with a relief he’d come and she wouldn’t have to sit
out this storm by herself.
She swung open the little window to see Chris’s face looking worried.
At the same moment, the skies opened up, and a heavy rain poured down.
She swung the door open wide and Chris charged in, two large dogs at
his heels. He caught the door and shut it firmly behind him, reengaging the
lock.
He turned to look at her and stopped short, his gaze running over her,
stalling at her breasts—and noting the way the silk sleep shirt highlighted
her stiff nipples—and lingering over her bare legs and feet, even in the low
candlelight. For the first time since she’d woke, Beth felt the chill of the
house. His eyes returned to hers and blazed as hot as the candle.
Then his dogs did what dogs do and started sniffing her crotch.
“Jaeger. Zelda. Sit.”
The dogs obediently sat on their haunches and stared up at her
expectantly. They were…huge. Even sitting on their haunches, their heads
were even with her waist. She hadn’t been around big dogs in years. Still,
she knew how to greet them. She held out her hands, one to each dog, and
they sniffed with interest.
“This is Beth,” Chris told the dogs, who’d progressed from sniffing to
licking her hands. “She’s a friend.”
After a minute, Chris told them to lie down, and they did, sitting alert by
the door.
“Aren’t they afraid of the storm?” Beth asked.
“Yep, but they know they’re with me and it helps them calm right down.
If they were home alone right now, they’d be under the bed. Plus…”
He looked around the room, seeing the single candle on the table and
taking in the hushed nature of the storm experienced from inside the thick
walls of the adobe home.
“It’s a lot quieter in this house than in mine, which is a stick build.” He
coughed and looked uncertain then.
“I hope you don’t mind my coming to check on you. This is a big storm,
and it came earlier than forecasted.”
Beth placed her hand reassuringly on his arm.
“No, I’m glad you came. I was managing, but I admit, it’s a relief to have
you here.”
He nodded his head, obvious relief settling over his face.
 “I’m sorry I haven’t called or texted—”
Beth held up her hand. “No strings. No obligations. Isn’t that what we
said?”
Chris looked like he wanted to say something, but he pursed his lips.
“Mind if I get out of this jacket? It’s pretty soaked.”
“Of course! Let me hang it up on the coat rack so it can dry out.”
Beth helped him shrug out of it. “Do you want towels for your hair and
the dogs?”
“That would be great.”
Beth spread his coat over the empty rack, not worried about it dripping
onto the tiled flooring. Then she pulled several towels out of the hall linen
closet and handed them over to Chris. He paused and looked down at them.
“These look awfully expensive for drying my dogs. Anything less
fancy?”
Beth smiled at him. “The reason I buy good towels is that they are
durable, and wash up great so I don’t need to worry about them getting
ruined.”
Chris looked a doubtful, but he dried off each dog, and then used the
third towel on his own hair and beard.
Beth gestured to the back of the house.
“While you’re drying off, I’m going to go put on warmer clothes. This
storm seems to have chased off the warm humidity of the day and turned
the house chilly.”
Then she grabbed her phone, and found her way upstairs, using the
flashlight feature to find her way. In her room, she quickly changed into
black yoga pants, and a long pull-on sweater and a pair of thick socks. Her
hair was a mess, so she pulled it up and back into a ponytail.
 Back downstairs, Chris had moved into the living room. He was sitting
tensely on the sofa, and the dogs were sprawled at his feet.
“Would you like something to drink?” Beth moved into the kitchen, still
using her phone to light the way.
“Sure. Whatever you’ve got.”
Beth tried the kitchen light switch to see if the power was still out. It was.
“Is wine okay?” She’d only had one glass out of the bottle at dinner.
“Sounds good.”
She found two wine glasses, filled them, tucked her phone in her
waistband, picked the glasses up, and returned to the living room. The dogs
watched her with avid interest as he handed Chris his glass. He took a quick
sip and set it on the table. Then he patted the cushion next to him on the
sofa. There was a brief moment of shuffled confusion as the dogs also
thought the invitation was for them and tried to beat her to the spot. Finally,
Beth snuggled up to Chris, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and the
dogs reluctantly settled on the large rug at their feet, their heads up,
watching the two of them. The dogs had never seen him this close to
another person.
For about ten minutes, they simply sat listening to the storm in silence, a
lingering tension radiating off Chris’s body, and taking a long time to ease
off. Beth figured they were both thinking heavily about what it meant for
Chris to come out with his dogs in the storm to check on her. He’d looked
pretty worried when he’d first arrived. The kind of worry that wasn’t
common for two people in a casual relationship. Not even a relationship. An
arrangement. To fuck each other’s eyes out. She huffed a laugh and felt him
stir, probably thinking she was crazy.
Finally, he took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders.
 “I think lightning struck one of the big trees on the property,” she said,
breaking the silence.
“It’s possible. I could see the lightning strikes around your property as I
drove here. The dogs were getting pretty nervous about me driving us into
the center of the storm.”
She took a sip of her wine.
“I’m surprised you came.”
He chuffed a laugh. “Me, too.”
“So, this isn’t a middle of the night booty call?”
That finally made him laugh.
“I wasn’t even thinking about sex when I got dressed and came to check
on you. I figured you didn’t have a backup generator and…hell…I did think
about it when I got here and saw you wearing that satiny slip.”
Beth stroked his thigh and snuggled in closer.
“Do you want to talk about why you were worried about me, or do you
want to save that conversation for another time?”
Chris turned and nuzzled her ear, but she could tell it was an affectionate
move, not a move for physical intimacy.
“Another time, if you don’t mind. For right now, I’d like to sit, safe in
this house with you and my dogs, listening to the storm rage outside.”
Beth kissed his cheek, then lay her head on his shoulder. The dogs were
still sitting, alert at their feet. She could see they sincerely craved the
comfort of touch. She patted the cushion next to her and one of the dogs—
Zelda?—looked over at Chris for approval.
“They’ll wreck your sofa.”
“I think we’ve already broken in this sofa,” she teased. “We did a lot of
vigorous activity on it. I think it can handle the dogs.”
 In the candlelight, she could see Chris’s humor returning. He nodded, and
both dogs jumped up, one on each side, settling in with their heads on her
and Chris’s laps. They were trapped.
“I warned you,” Chris told her.
Beth smiled and pet Zelda, who gave a deep sigh of contentment, even as
the rain pounded the roof of the house.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Eleven

THE STORM PERSISTED, LASHING the house with rain and wind
through the night. Eventually, both Chris and Beth fell asleep, along with
the dogs, all sprawled out on top of each other on the large sectional. It was
still raining when Chris stirred around dawn. Immediately, the dogs were
up, eager to get outside and do their business. Dim light filtered into the
living room through the small windows and the candle had burned out at the
bottom of the mug.
The commotion of him and the dogs getting up woke Beth, and she
yawned and stretched.
“Dogs need to go out?” she asked sleepily. God, she was gorgeous. Her
face was lined from pressing against the crease in his shirt, and her eyes
were puffy, but it only made her look more natural and lovely to him. He’d
never thought about wrinkles as something sexy or attractive before, but
hers struck him as evidence of a life lived and experienced. They let him
know she shared a certain wisdom and maturity with him.
“Yeah, you can stay put. I should get them home since they’ll need to eat,
too.”
 “Okay. Did you want a mug of coffee before you go? At least, if the
power is back on.”
“Nah. I’m only a few minutes down the road and I can brew a pot while
I’m in the shower.”
“Okay,” Beth answered, rising to follow him and the dogs to the door,
where he put on his shoes and his coat, still damp, but not too wet to wear.
Beth flicked the light switch for the entry and the overhead light came
on.
“Good, power’s back,” he said. “I’ll come back this afternoon, if you
like. I need to check on a couple job sites. We won’t be working outdoors in
this storm.”
Beth yawned again. “You don’t have to come back. It looks like the rain
is less torrential now and I haven’t heard any thunder since we woke up.
Maybe the storm is moving on?”
Chris shook his head. “There’s another front coming in, and it’s supposed
to rain heavy at least another day. It’ll be on and off for a couple of days.”
He paused, debating how she might interpret his interest in returning. “I’d
like to come back.”
She smiled her pleasure, and it felt like the sun came out, even in the
gloom of the early morning rain.
“Would you like to bring the dogs back, have dinner, and stay the night
again? You’re all welcome. We can watch a movie if the power stays on.”
He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss. He’d never chilled out to watch
a movie with a woman before and suddenly, it seemed like the best idea.
“Yeah. I’d like that. I’ll call you before I head back. If you go out, be
careful. Roads’ll be slick, and there could be washouts.”
 “I need to find a decent grocery store, so I am going out, but only during
the daylight. Anything you can’t eat? You’ve fed me twice now, and it’s my
turn to feed you.”
Chris opened the door and let the dogs out because they were getting
anxious and he didn’t want one of them to pee on Beth’s floor. The dogs
bolted out and immediately marked their territory inside the courtyard,
sending streams of piss down the plastered wall next to the gate. He was
afraid he wanted to mark territory himself. He turned to see her observing
the dogs as well.
“Sorry about that.”
Beth laughed. “I’m pretty sure the rain will take care of any lingering
urine. Doesn’t bother me.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Chris.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I like dogs. I am aware pets
are messy, and hairy, and all that. It doesn’t bother me. I grew up with pets.
I’ve missed having them.”
He smiled back at her. The dogs were currently waiting for him at the
gate, getting wetter by the minute, so he knew he had to go.
“Right. I’ll call you.” He kissed her quickly but firmly on the lips.
She stood at the open door and watched until he and the dogs climbed
into his truck. He waved as he pulled away, and she waved back.
Chris’s truck bumped and slid along the dirt road back to his place. The
rain was washing away the surface in places, and he didn’t want Beth out
driving on it. She could get stuck. She didn’t have a truck with four-wheel
drive like he did. He’d text her and ask for a grocery list, so she didn’t drive
into Santa Fe.
“I know, I know,” he told the dogs. “I’m aware. This isn’t me.”
 The dogs cocked their heads quizzically at him, then turned back to
watching the rain out the passenger window.
He might have called to check on another woman in the same
circumstances, like Evelyn, but the only reason he would have traveled out
in the middle of the night was if he knew there was a serious emergency, or
he’d have been using the storm and his so-called concern as an opportunity
for a booty call. He hadn’t even thought about sex last night. Well, not
much. He’d never thought he’d haul his dogs along to a woman’s house.
The dogs’ anxiety over the thunder and lightning had put a damper on any
fooling around. Plus, it had been late. Excuses.
He pulled up to his place and decided the dogs were going to have to stay
on a leash while they completed their business. He didn’t have time to clean
them up if they got muddy, though the rain was a good deterrent to keep
their time in the yard short. Neither dog liked the rain much.
While he stood in the rain and the dogs took a shit, he texted Beth.
Chris: DON’T GO OUT. ROADS ARE IN BAD SHAPE. SEND ME A
LIST OF WHAT YOU NEED FROM SHOP.
“Christ.” He reread his sent text. Would she even listen to him? He could
have been less high-handed. He’d could be charming, but preferred being
more straight-to-the-point.
While he was closing out his app, he saw the text from Evelyn. He still
hadn’t responded to her earlier text asking him if he was coming down to
see her. What did it mean if he was relieved to know he would not make it
down to Albuquerque because of the storm? He didn’t think too hard about
the fact that the storm could be over by the weekend. He tapped on Evelyn’s
message and hit reply.
Chris: HEY. BIG STORM. NOT COMING DOWN.
 He paused. He needed time to sort out what he was doing with Beth. He
added three more words.
Chris: MAYBE NEXT MONTH.
Now, who was creating drama? He groaned.
Evelyn probably was already imagining his postponement was because of
his minor issue with getting those blue pills. What would she think if she
knew he was losing his shit over a woman he’d met less than a week ago? A
woman for whom he didn’t need little blue pills.
The dogs finished up and they all hustled up the porch. Chris pulled old
towels out of a cabinet there and quickly dried the dogs off, wiping most of
the mud off their feet before letting them into the house. He thought about
Beth bringing out her nice towels to dry the dogs off last night and claiming
to not care if they got dirty.
She had been surprising him ever since she approached him in the
grocery store. Then letting Zelda sleep across her legs? Not caring when the
dogs peed in her front courtyard with its nice landscaping this morning.
He wasn’t the most aware guy, but he was starting to think Beth could be
a real danger to his loner lifestyle.
He snorted.
What lifestyle? His lifestyle had lost its appeal, the minute Beth rode into
town, if he was being honest with himself. Hell, he’d already been
transitioning out of it when he started having his monthly meet-ups with
Evelyn. But now even that limited commitment, which had once made his
skin itch, had become a more comfortable habit than an annoying
obligation. But had she ended it, he’d have walked away easily.
Was he ready for a monogamous relationship? Or was it Beth?
 After a quick shower, he dressed, drank a quick cup of instant coffee,
nowhere near as good as what Beth brewed, and checked his texts before
heading out.
Both Beth and Evelyn had texted back while he was showering, as had
Bill.
He checked Beth’s message first.
Beth: SINCE I’M NEW HERE, I’LL TAKE YOUR WORD ON THE
ROADS. THANK YOU. KEEPING LIST SIMPLE: MILK, EGGS,
BUTTER. FRENCH BREAD. PASTA, 1 CAN DICED TOMATOES.
GROUND BEEF, BACON. SUGAR, FLOUR. MUSHROOMS, ONIONS,
GARLIC, LETTUCE, CHERRY TOMATOES, CUCUMBER. I HAVE
SPICES AND OIL.
Chris chuckled. That list was at least twice as long as his normal list.
Looks like Beth cooked her meals from scratch. The bacon and eggs must
cover breakfast. What was it his brother-in-law always said about his
younger sister’s cooking? The way to a man’s heart was through his
stomach?
He tapped on Evelyn’s message.
Evelyn: IF YOU DON’T GO TO THE DOCTOR SOON, I’LL HAVE TO
MAKE NEW ARRANGEMENTS, HAHA. KIDDING. MISS YOU.
Chris frowned. Evelyn had said nothing before about missing him when
things came up, preventing a hook-up. He shook his head. She must be
horny.
He closed out her message and opened Bill’s. Bill lived closer to Santa
Fe and had paved roads all the way into work and to the job sites.
Bill: TOLD THE GUYS TO TAKE THE DAY OFF TIL THIS RAIN
STOPS. JOB SITES CLOSED. CHECKED ALL. NO WORRIES.
 That meant Chris could go into the office and try to get caught up on
paperwork all morning. He got into his truck and headed out. The rain had
picked up again, heavy enough for him to keep his speed down. He was
glad Beth wasn’t trying to drive in this weather. Again, he wondered at his
obsession over her. Of course, she was beautiful and smart, kind and easy-
going. What guy wouldn’t obsess over her?
He grinned about her determination to write erotic romance books even
while she blushed when she admitted it was her goal. An adorable mix of
bold and shy, sexy and innocent. He’d definitely talk her into reading her
stuff out loud to him. He got hard thinking about it.
The truck lost traction momentarily, and he took his foot off the gas pedal
until it slowed again enough for the tires to make contact with the
pavement. He needed to focus on the road, not get distracted by thoughts of
Beth.

Beth kept herself busy throughout the morning, working on her story,
adding another two scenes that developed the characters and built sexual
tension into their interactions. She realized several times she was humming
with happiness. She was glad none of her friends were here to see her in
this state. They would either warn her Chris was not the type of guy to
commit to one woman, or they’d warn her she couldn’t possibly know him
well enough to be so invested in their budding connection.
She had promised to make her writing dreams her number one priority,
not sign up for another round of taking care of a man. Yet, she was looking
forward to cooking for Chris tonight and again in the morning. She’d
invited him to bring his dogs, stay over, sleep in her bed. Next thing, she’d
be offering to do his laundry.
But that wasn’t true. Here she was. Writing. Putting to practice her
priorities. She couldn’t write eight hours a day. She was allowed friends and
leisure time. Besides, Chris had come last night to check on her, dragging
his dogs out into the storm because they would have been afraid alone at
home. And he offered to pick up the groceries for dinner and breakfast
because he worried about the condition of the roads. She couldn’t recall the
last time Kyle had shopped for groceries. At most, he’d stop by the wine
shop on the way home from work to pick out his preferred reds and whites.
No. Already this thing with Chris was superior to her marriage. She
suspected Chris had been fiercely independent and noncommittal regarding
women before her, but his actions with her now did not support the idea he
saw her as a booty call. They hadn’t even had sex last night, simply cuddled
on the sofa with the dogs, listening to the storm rage outside. Though she
hoped tonight would include another round of amazing sex.
While her head urged caution because of what Chris told her about his
history with women, her heart noted his actions with her did not match his
history. She didn’t know how much of his behavior with her was due to a
temporary and insane amount of shared personal chemistry, or how much
might be attributed to his interest in developing a more sustained and
supportive connection. All she could do was try to take each day, one at a
time. If the start of her relationship with Kyle had contained as many
fireworks as this start with Chris, she did not remember it. Still, now that
she was in her 50s, she wasn’t in danger of a broken heart. Not yet.
She plugged away, adding another 500 words, then took a break. She
browsed social media and the web, researching other writer’s websites for
ideas on how to structure her own. Even though she had nothing published
yet, she’d read it was important to get things set up in advance, network and
learn the business. She hadn’t decided whether she would self-publish or if
she’d try to submit her stories to a traditional publisher. Either way, she had
to have a website and at least one social media account active. She didn’t
want to spend a ton of money for someone else to create her site or manage
her accounts, so she faced a technical learning curve on social media in
addition to learning how to write a novel. She also didn’t want to put too
much pressure on herself to get everything done at once. That was a lesson
she’d learned while teaching, or in tackling any big project. It was more
important to do some every day than try to get it all done in one giant effort.
As noon approached, she got up and put on soft music and spent a half
hour stretching and strengthening her body with yoga practice. She was
sweating and breathing heavily when Chris returned, knocking on her door.
She turned off the music and checked her image in the mirror by the door,
and after confirming it was indeed Chris outside, unlocked the door to
invite him in.
He carried several grocery sacks, and she quickly led him to the kitchen,
where he deposited them on the counter, before going back to the door and
removing his coat and boots.
“I think I got everything on your list,” he told her as he walked back into
the kitchen. Then he yanked her into his arms and gave her a hungry kiss;
she immediately responded with enthusiasm. He tasted like peppermint
gum. The kiss deepened as Chris moved her back to the counter and trapped
her against his body. She slid her arms around his neck and opened her
mouth to his invasion. She could feel his cock hardening against her
stomach, and her panties growing wet with her own desire. She’d never
responded this quickly to any other man. She liked his aggressive attack
because it made her feel like he desired her as much as she desired him. He
slowed things down and pulled back a little, fully in control of the kiss.
“Did you have a good morning?” he asked.
“I did. How about you?”
“It was good enough, but I can’t complain. The rain makes it a short
workday, making it possible for me to be here right now.”
He gave her another long kiss.
“Where are the dogs?”
“I have to go pick them up, but I wanted to bring by the food and get this
kiss before they crashed the party and intruded on my plans to take you to
bed.”
He slid his hands up over her hips, her stomach, and then cupped her
breasts.
“I like this bra thing, but it’s too tight for me to get my hands under,” he
complained, plucking at her athletic top.
“We can’t have that,” she agreed, reaching down and dragging it up and
over her head. “But I am all sweaty from yoga, so—”
Chris cut off her with another deep kiss as his hands cupped and played
with her bared breasts.
When he paused to let her breathe, she was even more breathless than
she’d been from exercising.
“Is this an afternoon booty call?”
He grinned. “I prefer to call it afternoon delight.”
Beth voiced an exaggerated groan. “That’s corny.”
“Let’s see if I can impress you with my actions more than I can with my
words.”
 Then, absolutely shocking Beth, he swung her up in his arms and began
carrying her towards the stairs to the bedroom. She grabbed hold of his
shoulders in a bit of panic.
“Chris! I’m too heavy to carry.”
“Really? I don’t seem to be having trouble.”
“But…” Her protest died as he mounted the steps easily and carried her
into her bedroom. He continued to hold her in his arms as he surveyed the
room.
“Nice room.”
“Thanks.”
Then, he tossed her onto the bed and began stripping. Beth leaned back
and enjoyed watching him strip off his t-shirt, then his jeans, and finally his
boxers and socks. My god, but he had a good body. It was big and firm, the
muscles lean and rounded from working in construction. No six pack, but
his stomach was flat and lean. His cock jutted out, curving up slightly, hard
and eager.
“Like what you see?” he smirked at her.
“Yes, in fact, I do.”
He dug around in his jeans and pulled out a wallet, from which he
extracted a line of condoms.
“Do you think you’re going to need more than one?” she asked.
“Not immediately, but by morning, I sure as hell hope so.”
He ripped the condom open and rolled it over his cock.
“Apparently, I’m undressing you, too,” he pretended to complain, as he
stripped her damp leggings off, catching and pulling her underwear along
with them, leaving her naked on her new quilt. Then he joined her on the
bed and resumed kissing her, this time with their bodies pressed naked
against each other.
After several minutes of kissing, he nuzzled her neck.
“I want to fuck you from behind. That okay?”
Hell, yeah. It was her favorite position for stimulation. The penetration
hit her g-spot and the man could reach around and easily stimulate her clit.
It happened to be the only way she reliably orgasmed during intercourse,
that she knew of, although it had been years since she’d had sex in this
position. Her ex had opted for quick, missionary style sex, when he initiated
sex at all.
She answered Chris by rolling over and shifting to her hands and knees.
She sent him a shy look over her shoulder and found him on his knees
behind her, admiring her ass.
“God, you’ve got one hell of a body, woman. And this ass is fine.” She
loved the way his voice went deep on the last word. He stroked her
reverently, and she’d never felt sexier during sex.
Then, Chris lined himself up and thrust into her with such force she
tipped forward onto her forearms. She was still sore from the previous time
they’d had sex, but within a couple of thrusts, the overwhelming pleasure
replaced any discomfort. She braced herself and began pushing back as he
pushed forward until they found a rhythm making them both moan. As her
pleasure built, she realized she’d begun whimpering, a plea for more.
“Harder, faster, Chris,” she panted at him, and he reacted by clutching her
hips and ramming in like a jackhammer.
She positioned herself on one shoulder, so she reached down to touch
herself.
“Yeah, touch yourself, come on my cock,” he commanded.
 The pleasure built, and the sensations multiplied and she crested, her
orgasm flooding her body with such intense pleasure she practically
collapsed. Holding her hips up enough to continue pumping into her, Chris
groaned long and loud as he came immediately after. He fell forward,
rolling to the side and shifting her with him so he was spooning her, his
cock still hard and full inside of her.
Definitely afternoon delight.
For a while, they lay, cuddling in a companionable quiet, listening to a
light rain softly splattering the window. Eventually, Chris softened, and he
pulled away, taking care not to leak out of the condom.
“Uh, you got something I can use to clean up?”
“On the bedside table behind you,” Beth said, stretching with deep
satisfaction.
He removed the condom, cleaned up with a couple of tissues from the
box next to the bed, and then returned to encircle her in his arms again.
He sighed. “I supposed I better go let the dogs out. They’ll be wondering
where I am.”
“Do you go home in the middle of the day every day?”
“Yeah. I don’t like to leave them out all day, although I have a kennel. I
came home once to them barking like crazy because two rattlesnakes were
trying to mate right outside the linked fence of their kennel. I was worried
they’d get bitten. Lucky they didn’t.”
“I didn’t think much about rattlesnakes being common here. I suppose I
should take care. What do you do if you see one? Do you call animal
control?”
Chris chuckled. “You’ll be waiting a couple hours for them to show up,
and by then, most likely, the snake will have moved on, either somewhere
off your property or somewhere unexpected and unwelcome.”
“What do you do then?”
“I have a pole I use to scoop them up and drop them over my fence.”
Beth shuddered. “I guess I’ll need to get a pole, too. And a fence.”
Chris ran his hand down her arm in a light caress. “Or you could call me.
I’ve already got a pole,” he teased as he bumped against her with his half-
hard cock.
“I think you’d tire of running over here to rescue me every time there’s a
storm or a dangerous creature threatening my safety.”
Chris didn’t reply right away. Beth turned in his arms and slid an arm
through his and around his back.
“I’ve been thinking about how intense things have been between us, even
though we met less than a week ago.”
Chris shifted and tucked her head under his chin.
“Yeah. Been thinking about that myself.”
She stroked his back.
“What do you feel when you think about it?”
“I don’t know. I’m not used to thinking about my feelings unless it’s to
tell myself to calm down when someone is annoying the shit out of me, so I
don’t smash their face in.”
“So, you’re not feeling annoyed when you think about me?”
“Not even close. If I were, I wouldn’t be thinking about you, because I
would have stopped being around you.”
She snuggled closer, waited for him to say more. He let out a huge sigh.
“Honest-to-god, Beth. I don’t know what I’m feeling. It’s nothing I’ve
experienced before. It doesn’t feel bad, but it doesn’t feel familiar either.”
 She bit her lip to keep from making any noise, fearing it might let them
both know she was investing too fast.
Chris pressed her away from him and tipped her face up to his.
“I’m going to put this out in the open. I’ve never had sex like this, or
chemistry, or whatever you call it, on this scale before. And I’ve never
enjoyed being with someone like I enjoy being around you. I don’t know
what it means, how long I’ll feel this way, or if you feel the same, but I’m
hoping we can keep doing what we’re doing until it doesn’t feel good
anymore. Shit. I want you on the back of my bike. The only woman I’ve
given a ride to on my bike is one of my sisters, and it’s because her car
broke down.”
Beth pressed her lips to his in a gentle kiss.
“I think taking things one day at a time is a good plan.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Twelve

WHILE BETH UNPACKED THE groceries and prepped in the kitchen at

her place, Chris ran home in the rain, let the dogs out, and packed up a little
dog travel pack with several cans of food, a container of the dry kibble, a
couple chew toys, and two dog dishes, one for food and one for water. In a
zippered bag, he tossed in a toothbrush and fresh socks, underwear and a t-
shirt. His place and all his stuff weren’t far down the road from Beth’s, but
he planned to stay overnight and didn’t want to run back-and-forth.
He stopped and stared down at his duffle bag. Fuck. He’d never packed
to stay overnight anywhere at a woman’s place. He blamed it on the rain. Of
course, this thing with Beth wasn’t about scratching an itch or getting off.
Well, it was about that, but it was different. He grabbed enough dry wood
off his back porch to build a fire in Beth’s kiva fireplace. The rain had
paused, and he hustled to get the dogs and his stuff into the vehicle before it
started up again.
The dogs danced with excitement when they discovered they were going
out with him to the truck. Normally, they settled in for an afternoon nap
after his midday check-in. They climbed into the passenger door with
enthusiasm, being sure to give him several big licks on the face before he
got them settled down enough to close the door, round the vehicle, climb in
and turn on the truck before heading back to Beth’s.
When they pulled up in front of her house, the dogs could barely contain
their joy, whimpering with anticipation, their noses pressed against the side
window, their fur rippling down their bodies. Apparently, they approved of
Beth. Beth liking the dogs in return had been a bonus he would never have
hoped for.
He got out of the truck, rounded the hood and let the dogs out, grateful
for a lull in the rain and Beth’s hard-packed earth keeping the level of mud
and dirt down to the minimum. He opened the gate and herded the dogs up
to the door, knocking to let Beth know he’d returned. She opened the door
right away, stepping to the side to let them in.
The dogs immediately crowded her, but he’d trained them not to jump
up, and he was pleased they were on good behavior despite their emotional
state.
“How are you two?” Beth crouched down to their level, and they whined
with pleasure as she scratched their ears simultaneously. Her greeting
pushed them out of the well-trained states, and they overwhelmed her with
licks and kisses, tipping her onto her butt.
She laughed as Chris caught the dogs by their collars and commanded
them to sit. Beth pushed up from the floor and smiled at him.
“I think your dogs like me.”
Chris smiled, softening up at her genuine interaction with the dogs.
Those dogs were part of his life. As much as he liked Beth’s style, if it had
been too refined for big dogs who get muddy and require more than a purse
to carry them around in, he’d have been damned disappointed. Instead, it
was one more reason to trust his feelings about Beth.
“Well, you let them sleep on that fancy couch with us last night,” he
teased her.
“What happens once I slip them bacon in the morning?”
He clutched his heart in exaggerated horror. “Are you trying to steal their
affection away from me?”
“I seriously doubt that could happen,” she teased back. He had his
doubts. “I can see they adore you.”
“Well, they are pretty smart dogs.” He checked their front paws, which
seemed dry enough to allow them to move around freely without tracking a
ton of mud into Beth’s house. He snapped his fingers, and they dutifully
trailed them into the kitchen.
She gestured to the bag in his hands. “Dog supplies?”
“Yup. Among other things.” Suddenly, he wondered whether she’d get
spooked he’d brought his toothbrush. Hell, he was spooked he’d brought his
toothbrush. “What’s the amazing smell?”
She shrugged. “I might be making butter cookies for after-dinner movie-
watching.”
“There was popcorn in the grocery bag.” He’d bought several items not
on the list, including potatoes and carrots, a few apples and oranges, grapes,
a fresh chicken, a pack of steaks, and several tubs of ice cream in a variety
of flavors. Even though he ate lunch at the café frequently, he tried to eat
decently, cooking his meals fresh. He doubted he could complete with
Beth’s cooking, but he could scrape together a healthy meal.
“Yeah, about that. How much food do you think we’ll need for the
night?”
 “Think of it as welcome-to-the-neighborhood food pack.” And he hoped
to be having more meals in the next few days. Did buying groceries for the
week fit in with a one day at a time plan? No, but he also knew the roads
would be rough for several days from this storm and he didn’t want her
risking her car’s tires or suspension, or her safety.
She looked at him with warm eyes, making him feel like he’d done
something right.
“Is this weather common up here? Am I going to need to trade my car in
for a truck?”
The idea of Beth ditching her sleek car for a four-wheel drive definitely
appealed. They got snow and some of the local roads were pretty steep,
occasionally requiring chains.
“It’s something to think about,” he nodded, liking the idea even more as
he thought about it. He’d take her into the dealership himself, make sure she
got a good deal and the right truck for her.
Beth emptied the dog dishes and food out of the sack. She promptly filled
one of the dishes with water, and after a sweeping survey of the kitchen,
placed it down next to the pantry door, out of the way of cooking traffic.
The dogs both went to the dish and immediately began drinking as if they’d
been thirsty, even though they’d had their fill of water 20 minutes prior.
Beth noted his personal items and tactfully folded the top over the sack
and pushed it to the side. He watched her blush.
“I like to brush my teeth at night, and in the morning.”
“Of course, and you’re staying the night, so it makes sense to bring a few
necessities.”
He’d gone long enough without touching her, so he stepped up to her and
slid his arms around her hips, tugging her close.
 “I admit I’ve never brought my toothbrush to a woman’s place before. Or
clean socks. Guess I don’t want you to think I’m a slob.”
“I don’t—.” He cut her protest off with a gentle kiss, then deepened it to
show her how much he liked her. When he pulled back, she was breathless
and flushed.
She tipped her head forward and rested it on his chest.
“Guy could convince a girl to forget everything with kisses like that.”
“That’s only fair, since it goes both ways.”
She looked up at him, and they gave each other silly grins. Damn, she
made him feel like he was eighteen again.
The oven’s timer dinged, so she broke free and headed to the shiny
stainless-steel appliance. He followed over, watching her use thick pads to
lift the square pan out of the oven.
“That smells amazing,” he told her. “But it doesn’t look like cookies.”
“Shortbread,” she explained. She took a fork from a drawer and poked
holes in rows down and across the pan. Then she used a small sharp knife to
cut the cookies into rows.
“We’ll let the pan cool, then turn it over and finish cutting these into little
rectangular cookies.”
“I recognize those from the cookie aisle now.”
“Well, be prepared to discover the pleasure of homemade shortbread.
These will melt like the butter on your tongue. No dry, hard biscuits.”
“My mouth is watering already.”
Beth set the pan on the back of the stove to cool and turned to him.
“It’s still too early for dinner. What do you want to do?”
He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.
 “I can hear the rain starting up again. Cuddling on the couch sounds
good. I also brought wood for your fireplace.”
Her eyes lit up.
“A late afternoon nap in front of the fire?” She raised her eyebrows. “I
had a gas fire in California and have never made a wood fire. Wasn’t feeling
ready to do it, but the realtor required the previous owner to have it certified
as safe before the sale. I mean, if it’s not too boring to just sit in front of a
fire.”
“Hell no! I’m still tired from last night. I need to recover and rest up for
later.” He leered with exaggeration at her and smacked her butt. She
giggled. At least he wasn’t the only one acting like a teenager. Honestly,
feeling young and horny at 50 felt amazing. He’d thought he’d never feel
like this over a woman. He’d been certain he’d never fall for someone, but
Beth was something special.
That’s what they did. As boring—or emotionally uncomfortable—as the
idea would have sounded to Chris even a week ago, or with any other
person, the idea of cuddling and snoozing with this woman and the dogs
while the cold rain pounded the house outside sounded like a slice of
heaven. He thought to himself, what if being with Beth didn’t mean living
with a lot of drama?

Chris and the dogs stayed through the weekend. The rain kept falling on and
off, and, due to higher-than-average rainfall, areas had flooded. Small
rockslides reportedly blocked a couple of routes into Agua Pecos. The only
damage Beth or Chris suffered was standing water on their properties and
some wet, muddy trips outdoors with the dogs. But they also discovered
Beth’s luxury shower was perfect for bathing the dogs.
Saturday afternoon, Chris inspected Beth’s big tree out back and
determined a professional tree trimming would take care of the damaged
branches, and clean up the look of the tree as well. Beth added calling
around for tree trimmers on her to-do list for the following Monday. Along
with resuming her writing. These rainy days should have been devoted to
writing her novel, but instead, she found herself distracted by Chris and the
dogs. He wasn’t working because of the heavy rains, so she didn’t bring it
up. He didn’t suggest his returning home for more than clean clothes, and
she didn’t suggest he stay away when he did go. He took a few work-related
calls, and she always vacated the room to give him privacy whenever he
answered the phone.
Otherwise, the days and nights blurred into several blissful days of
engaging in exceptional sex, cooking together, snuggling, and streaming
shows on Beth’s giant television screen. Chris had expressed surprise she
had such an elaborate media set-up for a woman, including a surround
sound system, a turntable, and even a CD/DVD drive. That had prompted
the unpacking of all her albums, CDs and DVDs early on Sunday afternoon.
“I love music, movies and television shows, as well as books,” she
confessed as she slid albums into the bottom shelf of the large bookcase
she’d had brought out from California. It was custom made for her music
collection, with taller shelves for the albums at the bottom, and shorter and
shallower shelves for the CDs and DVDs.
“How many albums, CDs and DVDs have you got, woman? I thought
everyone had gone digital,” Chris teased her, as he hefted yet another box
over from the far corner where she had them stacked out of the way.
 “Far too many. Add my boxes of books to the move, and you can imagine
how much grumbling the guys did. I think they’d rather have moved more
large pieces of furniture than another box of CDs.”
When Beth had first suggested unpacking a few boxes, Chris had insisted
on carrying them out to the living area next to the shelves to make for easier
work.
“Some of these albums look old and valuable.” Chris pulled out her copy
of the Beatles’ White Album.
“I suppose if they were in better condition, they might be,” she sighed. “I
got my love for music from my dad, and most of the albums I have were his
originally, although I started my own collection while I was in high school.
We bought them to play them, not as collector items, so they’ve gotten
scratches over time. I haven’t bought any vintage albums because,
generally, I buy CDs, and I’m not technically a collector. I had cassette
tapes at one time, but I had to replace them with digital copies because,
well, it’s actually hard to find working cassette players, and my last one
died a decade ago.”
She cut into another box to discover her CDs.
“Shit. That’s a lot of CDs.”
She blushed. “I know I should go 100% digital, but I enjoy having the
actual music in physical form. Same with my favorite books. Fortunately, I
have switched to digital books, otherwise you wouldn’t see the walls in this
house.”
He pulled out an Eminem CD and then a Bach CD. “Pop, country, rap,
classic, rock…you seem to listen to everything.”
“I do. What about you?”
 “I listen to country, I suppose. Whatever is playing on the radio when I’m
in my truck. I haven’t paid much attention to music since I graduated high
school.”
“What do you listen to when you’re home?”
“Uh…I guess I put the television on in the background. That’s how I get
the news.”
“I read the news on my computer or phone, usually. It’s gotten so crazy
with politics, I can’t stand watching it on television anymore.”
Chris worked to move her DVD collection to its designated shelf.
“Are you big on politics?”
“Well, I’m a woman, so I had better be.”
He stopped shelving and looked over at her. “What does that mean?”
“Just that women still don’t have equal rights or equal pay, so I can’t
ignore the political climate, which is working to deny women even the
limited rights they have.”
Chris snorted derisively. “Most women I know are doing okay…more of
them went to college than the guys I know, and plenty have professional
jobs, like my sisters. They make okay money, as far as I can tell.”
Beth crossed her arms, concerned. She suddenly realized why it wasn’t a
good thing to just enjoy the sex and get emotionally involved with someone
so quickly.
“I didn’t think you were particularly conservative,” she parried. “You
haven’t mentioned anything associated with things I consider conservative.”

Chris glanced over at her, suddenly realizing the conversation had gotten
serious, quickly.
 “What do you consider conservative?”
“Well, going to church, collecting guns, saying things like a woman’s
place. Those kinds of signals.”
Chris caught her wrists in his hands, tugged them apart, and pulled her
close.
“I don’t like to get political, and I consider who I vote for to be a private
matter. Let’s not let something as stupid as politics be something to fight
about.”
Beth tipped her head, and she pursed her lips. He thought about kissing
her to change the topic, but something told him she wouldn’t be open to a
distraction right now.
“I need to ask you. Are you pro-choice?”
Chris shuffled his feet. “I’m not anti-choice. Look. I can’t get pregnant,
so I don’t think it’s my place to decide whether women can get abortions,
okay? And though I hated causing an unwanted pregnancy, I still love my
kid and took responsibility for her. But I don’t vote on a single issue either.”
Beth nodded, taking in what he was saying.
“Does that mean you’ve voted for political candidates who are against
legal abortions?”
“I may have. As a businessman, my concerns are more about taxes and
business regulations. I try to stay out of the social issue end of things.”
Beth pulled free and paced away from him.
She took a deep breath and turned to face him.
“Did you vote conservative in either of the last presidential elections?”
Shit. He sighed, knowing where this was going.
“I may have. I told you I don’t talk about politics or tell people who to
vote for or tell them who I voted for. Plain and simple. Everyone should
vote as they see fit.”
“That might have been true for all the other decades of the 20th century,
though the further back you go, the less it’s true. But these past two
elections have been critically important because the conservative candidate
was a womanizing grifter who mocks people with disabilities and even tried
to overturn the legitimate election.”
Damn, but he felt his resentment climbing. He’d made it clear politics
were a personal right. This is exactly why he’d never wanted to be in a
relationship. As far as he could see, it was never long before the other
person started telling the guy what to do. He stared at Beth and tried to calm
down. She was upset, her face flushed, her chest rising and falling with
deep emotion. He could make a concession, right? That didn’t mean she
was going to tell him how to vote.
“I didn’t vote for him in this last election.” He had decided not to vote at
all.
She nodded, taking in his answer, and it seemed to calm her. Then she
wrapped her arms around her torso in a defensive position again. She
looked away.
“Are you planning on voting for anyone like him in the future?”
Chris rubbed his eyes, felt a tension headache coming on. He’d been
through similar conversations with his sisters and it had ended in a stretch
of time in which they stopped speaking cordially to each other for a while.
“I don’t know. I might. I don’t vote until an election is happening, and I
can see who the candidates are. I don’t like big social programs, because I
don’t think they work so I can’t see myself voting liberal. Like ever.”
She was quiet for so long, he had to break the silence, which was only
growing more tense.
 “Beth?”
She finally looked at him and nodded jerkily. Her arms had settled into a
tightly crossed shield over her chest.
“I’ve had a good time these past few days, but I think you should go
home now.”
Guess he wouldn’t get to enjoy her special chicken mole recipe after all.
As it hit him she might kick him to the curb, his chest contracted and he felt
sick to his stomach. He should have known an educated woman from
California, and a former public school teacher to boot, was going to be a
bleeding-heart liberal. Yet, here he was, suddenly rethinking everything he
knew about life and himself, and not in a good way.
He might have been willing to put up with a steady woman for the first
time in his life, spend time riding his bike, eating meals, watching movies,
playing with the dogs, all together, but he would not change his core set of
beliefs about the world in exchange for good sex. Even as he thought it, he
knew his time with Beth had been about more than sex. Is it possible to be
in denial if you know you’re in denial?
“Yeah, I think it’d be good for us to take a break. Going from not even
knowing each other to spending the past week together nonstop…a bit
crazy.”
Forcing his frustration and anger down, he walked to the bathroom,
grabbed his toothbrush and duffle bag, returned to the kitchen and tossed in
everything he’d brought for the dogs, along. He zipped it closed. Then he
snapped his fingers and the dogs, who’d already sat up, alert to the tension
in the room, trotted to his feet.
Beth stood by the couch, not saying anything. She looked a little
shellshocked and like she might be fighting tears. Damn, he wanted to
throw down his stuff and take her into his arms, convince her not to send
him away. He hardened his heart instead. A lifetime of hardening his heart
made it easy enough. Then he led the dogs to the door and opened it,
turning as he was about to go through.
“It’s been nice knowing you, Beth. Take care.”
Then he left, shutting the door with a solid thud.

Beth held back her tears until the door closed, the thick wood settling into
the original casing like a clam closing its shell. She felt like she’d been
slapped in the face. She could hear his truck start up and roar away. She
berated herself. She should have known this would happen. The man rode a
motorcycle, worked construction, and lived in the boondocks. Well, she
lived in the boondocks, too, she thought wryly, but that was a choice related
to wanting to live on a budget so she could write, not so she didn’t have to
pay taxes. She had a half hour cry and felt a lot better. When she got angry
or frustrated, she always needed a release.
Couldn’t men be masculine, macho, and sensitive? Apparently not.
Clearly, Chris wasn’t particularly concerned about women or the poor. Or
children, or education. Or…she slumped down onto the sofa and curled up.
Kyle hadn’t been terribly concerned about those things either, but he had
voted for liberal candidates in deference to her work as a public school
teacher. Plus, he had openly despised the conservative presidential
candidate for a whole host of reasons, including his treatment of women
and minorities. Consequently, politics had never been a huge issue between
them. She knew they didn’t vote identically, but she trusted him not to vote
against his wife’s interests.
 Ugh. Men. They would never change. She should have stuck to her
romance novels and stash of sex toys. She might have written another ten
chapters of her book over the weekend, instead she spent time cooking
meals for a man again. She’d enjoyed it, too. Then, of course, the sex had
been phenomenal. But she wouldn’t fall in love with someone because of
great sex, or within a week’s time of knowing them. Her emotional reaction
to Chris had to be due to the newness of the situation. She hadn’t taken
emotional risks like this since she was in her early 20s. Now, she reminded
herself to slow things down. Despite her desire to carry on casually with
someone, it wasn’t in her DNA to do so. Not a problem. It might take a few
weeks to recover, but she was strong enough to move on, if they were
finished. Like fireworks, they exploded and lit up things for a minute, but
now they’d run out of fuel and all that was left was smoke and ash.
She looked over at the half-unpacked boxes spread across the floor.
She’d finish unpacking, and put on a favorite album, and play it as loud as
she wanted. She lived alone, and she didn’t have to change her behavior for
anyone.
She picked up her phone and tapped out a message to Adriana and Penny.
Beth: ES-EN > AF-NF > NE-RA. Extraordinary Sex - Exchange
Numbers > All Fun - No Fighting > Never Ever–Run Away.
Penny: THAT WAS OVER FAST.
Adriana: WHO DID THE RUNNING?
Beth: MAYBE…MUTUAL?
Adriana: [MARTINI GLASS EMOJI]
Beth found her Alanis Morrisette CDs and put Jagged Little Pill on,
cranking the volume up high. Within two hours, she’d unpacked all her
albums, CDs and DVDs and started alphabetizing them as well. She’d also
eaten all the ice cream Chris brought into the house.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Thirteen

CHRIS STORMED THROUGH WORK for several days, biting heads off
when he normally would have taken a deep breath and counted to ten. His
employees kept their distance, unless they absolutely needed to check with
him about something. Fine by him. Jasmine hadn’t even made him coffee
this morning.
Furious Beth would expect him to hold certain political views and not
vote for whoever he damned well felt like voting for, he deliberately turned
on the talking heads when he got home from work, and tuned the radio to a
political talk show while he was in the truck.
It didn’t help much that what passed for political news was so outlandish
he finally shut it all off. When had reporting the facts from both sides
devolved into biased talking points broadcast to rile everyone up and to hate
their political enemies? What had happened to this country? Where were the
traditional politicians with their polite doublespeak? Now, they were
constantly on the attack against their rival politicians, or attacking their own
people. Attack, attack, attack. It was exhausting and unpleasant.
 He'd been letting the shitstorm of the political news play in the
background for years now, rarely giving it his attention except during the
elections, when there was no way to avoid it. To be honest, as a white guy,
nothing that happened touched him much, so why should he get involved?
He had a business to run. He avoided political conversations at the club,
and the few times anyone tried to engage him on the topic of conservatives
versus liberals, he’d held up his hands and claimed to be an independent.
That shut people up and they moved on to talking about the next ride or the
latest game. Whatever happened to Bush’s compassionate conservativism?
Reagan’s supply-side economics? Now all they talked about was social
issues.
Chris didn’t give a shit if someone was gay, or wanted an abortion, or a
guy liked to dress up like a chick. He didn’t care if people were religious or
not, or what church they went to or what color skin they had. He cared
about politicians wasting taxpayer money on pointless projects and over-
regulating business for stupid reasons. He also cared about illegal
immigration. Not because he wanted a wall to keep them out, but because it
affected his business. Unlicensed builders and construction workers drove
down what he could bid on projects. His company’s good reputation kept
the work coming in, even if he cost more, because he had long-standing
business relationships, and his work was guaranteed. Also, his customers
liked knowing his guys were skilled at what they did and his projects rarely
ran over budget. He never left a job until it was finished.
He never forgot his mother had been an illegal immigrant. When his
parents met and fell in love, she’d had to cross back over into Mexico
without being discovered, apply for a visa, enter America legally, and then
get married to his father in Vegas. She’d been pregnant with him at the time.
Her stories about crossing the border, and the steps they’d had to take to get
her legal citizenship, had scared and stressed her such that she still talked of
it today.
Personally, he knew a bunch of guys who’d entered the country illegally
at some point, and eventually found a way to citizenship. Some of them
worked for him, and they’d learned on the job working for the illegal
contractors. As a businessman who needed good workers, he didn’t have the
luxury of never hiring someone who had once been illegal, or who once
worked for his competitors.
But he also knew plenty of drug dealers and out-and-out criminals came
across the border illegally. Some of them tried to set up marijuana farms
locally. Some succeeded. Those immigrants were dangerous and
unwelcome, though no more so than America’s homegrown dealers. He also
worried terrorists from the Middle East would enter the country through the
southwestern desert. As a state bordering Mexico, residents saw a fair share
of fresh illegals regularly. Even as he frowned over the threat, he wasn’t so
ignorant that he didn’t know white supremacy threatened America’s peace,
even more than foreign extremists. His sister’s crazy ex was an extremist
and member of a group in Albuquerque, even though the guy was Hispanic.
It made no sense.
But the immigration issue was fucked, and he didn’t honestly believe
either party was going to fix it. The wall was pointless. Walls could be
scaled, knocked down, circumvented, one way or another. And, to his
thinking, being caught and kept in an air-conditioned, temporary holding
area, even inside chain-link fences, while being fed three meals a day,
allowed to bathe, change clothes, use the bathrooms wasn’t “jail.” Some of
those people were safer under government control than they were trapped
inside a coyote’s semi-truck trailer in 100-degree temperatures. Eventually,
people got their cases heard, and either were allowed to stay or they were
returned to their home countries.
Did bad things happen? Yep. They happened to people all the time.
Thinking about the neighbor they’d caught with his hand up his five-year-
old sister’s dress one day taught him that when he was only nine.
Immigration wasn’t an issue that influenced his vote.
Still. He had decided not to vote to reelect the conservative candidate for
president in the last election. He could put up with some indiscretions, some
political differences, but he had struggled to put up with the idiocy of the
guy. Plus, that old question, are you better off now than you were before the
guy was elected? had an easy answer. Hell no. The idiot had started up a
trade war, heavily impacting his costs, and therefore, impacting his
business. He sincerely regretted voting for the guy. If Beth had been willing
to talk about this stuff calmly, without freaking out on him and kicking him
out of her house, he wouldn’t have been sleeping alone in his own bed since
Sunday.
He ran his hands over his face, over the beard he’d had trimmed up nice
for Beth, and cursed. Now, instead of obsessing over Beth’s fine ass and the
noises she made when she came, and thinking about how soon he could get
into her again, he was obsessing over politics, something he hated. Fuck it.
He had work to do.
Where was the damned list of supplies he needed for the upcoming
Franklin project?
“Jasmine! Get you prego ass in here,” he yelled towards the partially
open door to the front office. The volume of the rock classics radio channel
she played during business hours turned up to rival the sound at a live
concert. How could she even hear the phone on her desk if it rang?
Jesus. He pushed himself up and stomped over to the door.
“Do you have the Franklin project file?” he yelled.
She flung the file at him over her shoulder like a frisbee and he had to
scramble to catch it before all the papers fell out and scattered.
“Thanks,” he yelled and huffed back into his office, slamming shut the
door harder than necessary. The volume of the radio went back down to its
normal level. Women.
He opened the folder and sorted the papers, looking for the page he
needed.
Beth would like Jasmine. Jasmine would like Beth. If Beth had witnessed
the past few minutes, she’d have laughed at him and told him to go make
peace with his assistant. He’d liked the way Beth had treated people when
they were out together at the restaurant in Santa Fe, and even at the café, the
DMV and the market, brief as those observations were. She was a person
who recognized and appreciated people who served others, including
waiters and secretaries.
He swung his chair around towards the window and tilted back, looking
out at the fence bordering the property where he kept his office, equipment
and supplies. The sun was blisteringly hot now the storm had moved on. He
took a deep sigh, one that shudder through his body. He should make a run
out to the sites where the guys were working and make sure they all had
cold drinks. He knew his foremen made sure there was always plenty of
cold water…but he could deliver flavored drinks and a few packs of beer
for after work. An apology for his mood the past few days.
 A couple of assertive knocks on his door drew his attention back into the
room.
“Come in.”
Jasmine waddled in and settled on the couch across from his desk. He
was going to have to help her stand when she was ready to leave.
“I sense a change in the atmosphere. Are you ready to talk?”
Women and their damned intuition.
“Talk about what?” He would not spill his guts to someone half his age
and expect understanding. Especially from a woman. Worse, much as he
loved having her as his assistant, Jasmine was what he considered “woke.”
“What happened between you and Beth that’s turned you into a raging
bear with a thorn stuck in his paw?”
He bent back over his desk and fiddled with the Franklin papers,
pretending to be busy. He picked up his pencil and made a fake notation in
the margin.
“Nothing’s happened. It’s over. We didn’t suit.”
“R e a l l y?” she drawled.
He snuck a look from under his eyebrows and she was shaking her head.
“Well, that’s convenient timing. I came in to tell you Evelyn called this
morning to say she was going to be in Santa Fe today and wanted to know
if you could meet for dinner before she headed back to Albuquerque.
“When did she call?”
“I think it was around nine this morning.” She avoided his eyes, studying
her nails.
Chris looked at the old analog clock on the wall above Jasmine’s head
and quirked an eyebrow at her.
 “It’s almost the end of the day now. You couldn’t have told me this
earlier?”
She shrugged. “I thought if you weren’t responding to her text messages
or phone calls, you wouldn’t care if you got the message she left in the
office.”
He had been ignoring his phone most of the day. Well, not true. He’d
been ignoring anything that wasn’t work-related or from Beth. And,
truthfully, he didn’t want to meet Evelyn for dinner.
Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest, resting them on her pregnant
stomach.
“The grown-up thing to do would be to go meet her and tell her you’re
into someone else, face-to-face, instead of ghosting her.”
“I’m a free man. Not into anybody, and I’m not ghosting her. I’m busy.”
She stared at him. “Wow, that’s three lies in one sentence.”
She held up three fingers, flipping down one.
“One, you are definitely ghosting Evelyn, because you’re not responding
to any of her attempts to contact you.”
She flipped down a second finger.
“You’re totally into Beth.”
She flipped down the third finger.
“Therefore, you are no longer a free man.”
He broke, tossing the papers down on the desk and rubbing his eyes.
“If a woman tells you to leave her house in no uncertain terms, then I’m
pretty sure you’re not in a relationship with her, so you’re free.”
“I knew it. You did something stupido.”
He scowled at his assistant. “I did no such thing. It was a mutual parting
over serious differences of opinion.”
 “What did you let her think you think, that you don’t really think?”
He shook his head. Sometimes it was hard to follow what she was saying,
even sober.
“Just a bunch of political stuff.”
Jasmine leaned back. “Bill told me she’s a teacher from California. So,
I’m guessing she’s a liberal, and you spewed some conservative, oh excuse
me, independent, bullshit and pissed her off.”
“This conversation is over. Go back to work.” He checked the clock.
“There’s still twenty minutes left in the workday.”
“I came in here to tell you I’m leaving early. This baby is driving me
crazy and my back aches.”
She struggled up to her feet. When he rose to come help her, she waved
him off.
“Since you’re not talking to Beth, you might as well return Evelyn’s
messages and see if you can treat one woman with respect today.”
With that, she waddled back out of his office, grabbed her purse and
waddled out the door of the trailer, letting the door bang shut behind her. He
hoped one of the guys in the yard would help her into her truck.
Chris leaned back with a sigh.
Then, he did the responsible thing and picked up his phone to call
Evelyn.
After a single ring, she picked up.
“I didn’t think you were going to catch me before I headed back.”
“I’ve had a busy day. We got behind last week because of the storm and
we’ve been trying to play catch-up this week.”
“Okay. I get that. I just wrapped up an appointment. It’s the end of the
day. I can wait around, if you want to meet up for dinner. I mean, you’ve
always been the one driving down to see me, and I’m long overdue to be
the one to drive up to see you.”
Chris didn’t know what to make of that concession. Truth was, he’d
never wanted her up at his place. He better get this over with.
“Yeah, I’ll be done here in about half an hour, and it’ll take me about
twenty minutes to get into a restaurant in Santa Fe. Did you have a place in
mind?”
“I heard Flor del Sol is nice.”
The center of Chris’ chest ached.
“Um, I don’t feel like going anywhere that fancy. I’m dressed in jeans
and an old t-shirt.”
“No problem. We can go casual. You told me there was a great BBQ joint
here as well.”
Why’d she zero in on the places and food he now associated with Beth?
“How about we meet towards the south end of town at Café Castille?
That way it’s not far off Interstate 25, and a shorter drive home for you,” he
suggested, knowing nothing was more unromantic than ten-dollar enchilada
plates. The place would be packed with families and kids running around.
He hoped anyway.
He heard her pausing to think. Maybe she’d bail and decide against
dinner.
“Sure, Café Castille it is. See you there at, say, 6:00?”
“Sounds good.”
He had to eat anyway.
At 6:00 on the dot, Chris pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant, which
was located in a strip mall with several other restaurants and shops. He saw
Evelyn’s blue jeep was already in the parked in the far corner, so he pulled
in next to it. She was sitting in the driver’s seat reading something on a
device like Beth’s. He got out, circled around, and tapped on her window.
She looked up and smiled at him.
He stepped back so she could open her door and climb out. She was
dressed up in an expensive suit that showcased her generous curves and
toned legs. She reached out, and they hugged awkwardly.
“Hi. I didn’t feel like sitting at a table alone, so I thought I’d wait for you
in my jeep.”
“I see that. Shall we go in?”
“Sure.”
He gestured for her to proceed in front of him, and she led the way up to
the café. As they approached the front door, a noisy family of five exited,
laughing and talking loudly. Chatter and the clanking of dishes, shouted
orders and general dinner crowd noise spilled out of the place. Definitely
not romantic.
Evelyn waited for the family to exit and then headed in towards the
hostess stand. She had to know this was not a great place for a date, and she
was taking it in stride. She’d always been a trooper.
The hostess, a girl who barely looked old enough to be working, directed
them to a table still wet from being cleaned. She plopped down two sets of
utensils rolled in paper napkins and two glasses of water.
“Your server will be right with you,” she said, and then hustled off to seat
another family, this one with at least six kids.
Evelyn unrolled a napkin and wiped down her seat before sitting down.
 “I must say,” Evelyn said as she took a laminated menu from the stand on
the table that also held three types of hot sauce and ketchup, “I didn’t know
people still had such large families.”
Chris chuckled and grab a menu for himself. “I guess someone is having
kids because the world population keeps growing.”
They quickly perused the menu, and a few minutes later, when the
waitress, not much older than the hostess, showed up, they both ordered the
tacos plate and sodas.
“What brings you up to Santa Fe, today?” Chris asked.
“I needed to meet with a potential client,” she said. “And I realized I
have never offered to come up to see you, which, in hindsight, is pretty
selfish, I guess.”
Chris stretched back in his seat and looked over the busy restaurant.
“Our arrangement has always been casual, you know,” he said. “I never
expected you to drive up to Santa Fe. Plus, I don’t like the idea of women
driving alone on the highway at night.”
“You’ve stayed overnight at my place before,” she pointed out. “I would
have happily stayed over at your’s.”
He snorted. He’d stayed twice in three years. Both times because of icy
road conditions that developed after he’d gone down to Albuquerque. Not a
habit.
“Evelyn, I should have called you after the last time and told you what’s
going on.”
“Well, I’m here. Listening.” She smiled brightly at him. A fake smile.
He pondered what to say to let her down easy, and to avoid any drama, if
possible. Why couldn’t she have asked him to dinner to break things off
instead? It’d be so much easier.
 She sighed.
“Listen, Chris, I’ve already picked up on the signals.” She gestured
around the family restaurant. “This isn’t a date, and I think you choose the
place to send that message. I’m not stupid. Or at least, not a total fool. I
admit I harbored hopes for us I shouldn’t have, but I think I can see what’s
happening now.”
“You’re a great person, Evelyn. I’ve enjoyed being friends, well, friends-
with-benefits with you, but I’m afraid that aspect of the friendship is over. I
would still like to be friends, of course.”
She studied him, tipping her head to the side.
“This isn’t embarrassment about what happened—or rather what didn’t
happen last time. It’s not a big deal. I get it. We’re older and these things are
pretty inevitable.”
He was not discussing his health with her. Especially not that aspect of it.
“That’s not it.”
“I’d worry you met someone and fell in love, except you seem down
right now. Do you want to talk?”
Nope. He hadn’t wanted to talk about Beth to Jasmine or the guys, and he
sure as hell didn’t want to discuss her with Evelyn.
“I’d like to have a meal with an old friend and then part ways for the
night.”
She smiled back at him sadly. “You never were much for talking out your
feelings, or talking much at all.” She busied herself with tidying up the
table, putting the menus neatly back in the holder at the side of the table. “I
hope the food’s good here.”
A young kid in the booth behind them popped up over his shoulder.
“The tacos are da bomb! You’ll like ‘em. They’re my favorite.”
 Chris twisted around and winked at the kid, who was standing up and
listening in on their conversation.
“What he said,” he echoed, turning back to Evelyn, brushing off
crumbled hamburger from his shoulder the kid had spit out on him. He took
a deep breath. He owed Evelyn an explanation, just not any details.
“I met someone. Never thought I would, but I did. Of course, I already
fucked it up and no, I’m not talking about it with you or anyone else.”
“Got it.” She fussed with her utensils and tried to press the creases out of
her napkin. “So, what did you think about the Ice Wolves game the other
night?”
At that moment, the waitress came by with their plates and drinks, and
they ate, sliding into the comfortable banter of two people who love a
specific sport.
One problem solved. Evelyn had let him off easy, and he knew it. The
remaining question was, would Beth be as forgiving? Because sitting here
with Evelyn felt wrong on every level, and he realized that Beth was too
great a prize to walk away from because of a first fight.

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fourteen

THROUGH SHEER DETERMINATION, BETH wrote ten thousand more

words on her novel in the days after her fall-out with Chris. She knew the
writing was more garbage than art, but forcing the words out felt good.
She’d turned the ruggedly handsome stranger with irresistible sex appeal
into the dangerous, potentially violent stranger. She wasn’t sure when the
story went from being a romance to being a dark mystery-thriller.
She enjoyed writing several scenes set at dusk in which the shadows
deepened and wild predatory animals skulked past the heroine while she
traveled to and from work, home, and errands. But no matter how much she
invented things to haunt the protagonist in the story, it still didn’t match the
way thoughts of Chris, of his rough, calloused hands, his hard body, his
aggressive love-making, or his soft kisses haunted her nights and her sleep.
Maybe this was why Heathcliff was both such a frightening, violent
character and yet he fascinated Cathy in Wuthering Heights, along with
hundreds of thousands of female readers since its publication. She
wondered whether Chris was driven mad over thoughts of her, as she
seemed over thoughts of him. She was in her 50s! She shouldn’t be
consumed with passion rivaling teenage obsessions and Gothic novels.
Late afternoon, she drove into the outskirts of Santa Fe to buy the
groceries she’d needed since her appliances were installed. She stopped in
at several places, familiar and unfamiliar, including a Trader Joe’s, an all-
organic grocers, and a place specializing in olive oil. At another, she picked
up local organic honey, and finished her shopping at a place with an
extensive wine, beer and liquor selections. She’d indulged herself, buying
interesting jars of sauces and spices, imported cheeses and cured meats,
highly rated wines and a large bottle of tequila. If she couldn’t indulge her
newly awaken wantonness with sex, she’d do it by overspending on
decadent food and drink.
She’d also searched out and found a local writer’s group, which met at
the Santa Fe Public Library on the last Saturday morning of each month.
Alone for the first time in her life without friends nearby, her interlude with
Chris had reminded her writing was a lonely activity, and she needed a
supportive community in which to get feedback and encouragement. When
she was a teacher, she saw hundreds of people a day. Now, living on an
isolated acre, on the outskirts of a city in the New Mexico mountains, at the
base of a National Historic Park, she could go weeks seeing no one. She
was an introvert, and she didn’t want to see hundreds of people a day
anymore, but it had been nice having Chris around, even for a sense of
companionship.
She didn’t pretend attending a writing group, or even making new friends
in the area, would carry the same impact in her life Chris had after only one
day. But she was a grown woman, capable of moving on. She’d moved on
after a 30-year marriage, without a lot of pain. She could get over a one-
week affair with a man who she never intended to have a long-term
relationship with in the first place. She’d had fun, she’d learned new things
to enhance her experience as a writer, and she’d discovered it was possible
to fall for someone again.
Not that she was in love with Chris, but that when, and if, she met
someone more compatible, more sexy, more interesting, who shared her
ideas and beliefs, she could consider falling in love again. Life was short.
She didn’t want to waste time on people who didn’t value women or
support women’s rights. Someone who voted for people who debased
women, who were racist and didn’t care about the country.
She let herself get worked up over the last conversation she’d had with
Chris as she added another $35 bottle of wine to her cart, forgetting she’d
made herself a budget limiting herself to $15 per bottle. The angrier she
stayed, the easier it was not to feel a sense of loss, of having misjudged him
somewhere along the way, of having overreacted. Everything between them
had been so perfect, so easy, so joyful. She hadn’t expected the turn of
events. Nothing in his behavior suggested he was disrespectful of women.
He spoke affectionately, even proudly, about his mother, his sisters, his
daughter, even his office assistant. He’d been an attentive gentleman around
her, opening doors, making sure she was okay in the storm, helping her with
things around the house.
He hadn’t even been a typical guy, expecting to be waited on. He joined
her in the kitchen, helped prepare meals, helped wash up the dishes, did the
grocery shopping. He checked all the boxes for being a guy, carrying heavy
things, making sure she didn’t drive in dangerous conditions, lighting the
fire, being assertive, even aggressive, in the bedroom, but he’d also done
chores traditionally assigned to women without a single complaint or need
for praise.
Still, for all the rounds she went in her head, getting angry all over again,
each round wore her down, came with increasing doubts about her reaction
and expectations. Was this how women submitted to dominant men?
Doubting themselves and slowly but surely abandoning their own principles
in order to maintain a harmonious relationship with a man?
She made her last stop, a specialty Indian shop about to close for the
evening. Its website claimed it carried imported food items like curry
sauces and jarred marinades, besan flour, and frozen paratha bread. She’d
planned on cooking an Indian meal for Chris before they fought. Didn’t
matter. She was determined to prepare her favorite recipe, chicken biryani,
even if it was only for herself. She could package and freeze the extra
portions for easy dinners later in the month. Later, when she’d made other
friends, she could throw a small dinner party and serve pakora, biryani,
tandoori and a variety of breads with aromatic saffron basmati rice. Those
recipes she’d mastered, and she wouldn’t mind mastering a few more from
her cookbook collection.
Loaded up with several heavy bags of Indian food staples, she struggled
slightly to get through the shop’s door and around her car to the trunk. She
set the bags down to reach in to find her car keys when one bag tipped over,
and a couple of jars began rolling down the slight incline of the parking lot.
She chased after them and scooped them up as they were about to roll into
the scrub at the edge of the lot. As she stood and turned, she saw a familiar
man leaving a Mexican restaurant down from the shop she’d been in.
Could it be Chris? When he turned so the restaurant exterior lights lit up
his face, she gasped. Chris was with a pretty woman, who looked to be in
her early 40s. Stylish, professional, wearing a tailored skirt suit. Maybe it
was a business meeting. Maybe it was one of his sisters. Maybe he had a
late—nope scratch those explanations.
The woman slid her arms up around Chris’s neck and stretched up to kiss
him directly on the mouth. Chris didn’t resist, letting her push her
voluptuous body up tight against his.
Beth felt her heartbeat speed up, pain rising and cresting so rapidly she
couldn’t do anything but watch, shocked by the public display between
Chris and the woman. Shit. She needed to get out of there before he saw
her. She hurried to her car, popped the trunk and tossed the loose cans in
before lifting her bags in after. She shut the trunk lid and quietly as she
could, took a deep breath and turned to walk to the driver’s door. Though
the sun was setting, it was still light enough out to be seen and recognized.
She tried to open the door and realized she hadn’t unlocked it yet.
“Beth?”
She fumbled with her keys, searching for the unlock button, accidentally
hitting the lock button, and then lost her grip as they dropped to the ground.
Her eyes were filling with tears. Please, no.
“Beth.” Chris’s voice had deepened into a command.
She picked up the keys and hit the right button and started to open the
door when a large hand landed on the top of the door, holding it closed.
She huffed, keeping her back to Chris.
“Let go of my door, Chris.”
“No.” He caught her by the shoulders and tried to turn her towards him,
but she resisted.
“Beth, please. I don’t know what you saw, but let me explain.”
 She barked out a laugh, tipping her head down to rest it against the top
edge of the car.
“I’ve heard conversation starters like that before, and I never liked
hearing what was said afterwards. Let go of me.”
Tears escaped and slid down her cheeks. More than anything in the
world, she did not want Chris to see her crying. Her humiliation was bad
enough knowing that she’d been more into him than he’d been into her.
“Go back to your new girlfriend.”
Chris heaved a big sigh behind her, and crowded up against her, bracing
his hands on either side of her and caging her against the car. It felt so good
to be inside his arms again. She cursed their chemistry and connection.
“She’s not my girlfriend.” His deep voice growled into her ear, his warm
breath bathing her neck in a gentle caress. She swallowed.
“Okay, whatever. Lover, hook-up, friend-with-benefits. I don’t care what
you call her.”
“She’s an old friend—”
“Good god, Chris, how naïve do you think I am? I saw the two of you
kissing. Please, go away.”
He took a hand away and stroked it down her hair, then slipped it in to
stroke her neck underneath. The heat of his touch on her skin set all her
senses alive. She could smell the damp desert and the smell of wood
shavings, hear the traffic whizzing by on the main street and Chris’s quiet
breathing. Then she smelled the perfume. It was a floral scent, and she
knew Chris didn’t wear cologne. It had to be the woman’s.
“I’m sorry you saw that—”
“I’m sure you are. I’m not. I like knowing the truth.”
 “As cliched as it sounds, it meant nothing. A friendly last kiss. I didn’t
even kiss her back. I let her kiss me goodbye to be kind. That’s it.”
Beth let her tears fall silently, hoping he wouldn’t suspect a thing, but
then one particularly large tear made a plotting noise as it hit the car, and
then slid down the curve of the driver’s side window.
“Jesus, Beth. Please, turn around. Are you crying?”
She shook her head in denial, her throat too choked up to answer.
This time, when he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around, he
didn’t let her resist. She silently cursed men’s greater upper body strength
as he forced her around to face him. She refused to meet his eyes, looking
over his shoulder and firming her chin into a defiant pose.
“Fuck.”
Instead of using his fingers to wipe away her tears, he kissed them, the
soft hairs of his beard and his lips brushing softly against her skin,
absorbing and sweeping away the drops before they could fall.
“Beth, sweetie—”
Beth stayed stiff in his arms, hard against her desire to lean back into his
strength, focusing on the perfume instead.
“Flower Bulb.”
“What?”
“Her perfume. My friend Adriana wears it. It’s called Flower Bulb. You
reek of it.”
“I can’t possibly reek of it after a simple kiss goodbye.”
“Whatever. Please let me go. I have a car full of groceries and a long
drive home.”
He took her chin in his fingers and tipped her face towards his.
“Beth, please look at me.”
 He wanted her to look at him? She’d look at him. With all the disgust and
disdain she could muster up. She’d been a teacher who’d perfected her
nonverbal communication.
He started back a step when their eyes met. Then he smiled.
“You’ve got a lot of fire in you, honey.”
“Do not patronize me.”
“I’m not. I’m admiring you. I’ve never met someone with your exact
blend of fire, sweetness, strength, and calm in my life.”
“Fine. I’m glad I’m such a rare person. Now. I really have to go.”
He released her, stepping back and giving her room to stand up straight.
Finally.
“I’ll follow you home to make sure you get there safe.”
She looked at him in exasperation.
“I’m a grown woman who managed to drive all the way into Santa Fe by
herself, and I’m perfectly capable of driving all the way back home. On.
My. Own.
He took her face in his hand and leaned in. She tried to back up, but she
was against the car again.
“This is not a goodbye kiss, because I will see you at your house. Then
we’ll talk.”
With that pronouncement, he kissed her hard, possessively.
As he let her go, he smiled. “Now that was the kiss I needed like my next
breath of air.”
With that parting comment, he strode away and got into his truck against
the back corner, which she hadn’t noticed when she’d arrived.
Half-dazed and half-furious, she got into her car and started the engine.
By the time she’d backed out of her space, he was waiting patiently to
follow her.

Beth drove faster than she should have on the roads, but Chris never lost
sight of her car, keeping his truck lights in her rearview window as a steady
reminder he intended to follow her home, so they could talk. It was good
luck to have run into her because he wasn’t sure she’d answer his call or
text, and he didn’t want to show up unannounced at her house because that
could feel stalkerish. And what is following her home, if not stalkerish? He
cursed. It was also bad luck for her to have seen the goodbye kiss Evelyn
had laid on him after dinner. Relationships were a goddamn minefield.
He thought Evelyn understood there would be nothing but friendship
between them going forward, but that kiss suggested she hadn’t been as
onboard with their changed status as he’d hoped. The interesting thing
about the kiss was it didn’t stir him at all. He felt totally unaffected by it. He
really did let her kiss him to be kind. Frankly—and it was insensitive of him
to think it—it confirmed any remaining questions about whether he was
going to miss Evelyn. He wasn’t. Not when he had Beth to kiss. Even if he
didn’t have Beth to kiss, things between Evelyn and him were finished.
When Beth kissed him, his blood heated, and his heart raced. When Beth
kissed him, he lost his head and all he could think about was how good she
tasted, how soft she felt in his arms, how crazy her little hums and
whimpers of pleasure turned him on. When Beth kissed him, he felt like
he’d found a piece of paradise all his own. He was pretty sure this could be
love. Now, all he had to do was convince her he was worthy of her love.
She took the final offramp, traveling fast and her car swung wide on the
curve, barely clinging to the pavement before transitioning safely onto the
two-lane highway leading them home. He growled. After he convinced her
to take him back, he was going to teach the teacher about the consequences
of being his woman and driving dangerously, and at night. The sun had set
about fifteen minutes ago and while it wasn’t pitch dark, it was still harder
to see the road than during the day. His hand itched to deliver sweet
punishment to her bared ass. Then to ease the pain with his mouth.
Seeing her cry nearly broke his heart. He never, ever, wanted to be
responsible for her tears again. She cried like she did almost everything
else, quietly, with a restrained control. Didn’t want him to see her tears
either. How about that? He’d met women who were expert criers and knew
how to use them to manipulate a guy, including the mother of his daughter.
Fortunately, their daughter had not taken after her mom in that regard. If he
was paying child support, he insisted on his time with the kid. Growing up,
she’d spent half her Saturdays and Sundays with him, or with his mom and
sisters, if he’d been out of town on a ride. They’d modeled a different set of
values for Jessica.
They never spoke a word against her mom, but they also didn’t speak
particularly highly of her either. Jessica knew the score, accepted it. and did
an amazing job of managing to love both sides of her family, albeit
separately. He wanted to introduce Jessica to Beth, see what classy looked
and sounded like. Shock the hell out of her seeing her old man with an
educated and beautiful woman like Beth. No one in his family would
believe Chris could crack her perfect shell and make her care about him. Or
make her scream. He grinned in anticipation. He’d been born a bit of a
charmer, and he’d be putting every ounce of skill he had into convincing
Beth they would be good together long-term.
 Only days apart and all he could think about was stripping her bare and
sinking into her. He was well and truly caught, and surprisingly, he didn’t
care. Deciding to try a steady relationship with Beth, no matter how hard it
was to hash things out with talking, had been like opening the floodgates on
his feelings. The relief was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Fuck,
he’d let her fill out his voter ballot for the rest of their lives if it meant he
got to be with her.
He sped up and eliminated most of the distance between their vehicles,
following her closely as she turned off into her property and down her dirt
drive. It was rutted after the storms. He’d surprise her and have his buddy
Cal come out this week and scrape it smooth again with his box scraper.
She parked her car in her garage, and as he parked, he saw she’d closed
the garage door soundly behind her. He got out and walked up to the front
door and knocked, wondering whether she’d ignore him. Well, he wasn’t
going anywhere. He knocked again, and the door swung open. Her face was
calm, but her expression was expressionless, like she’d listen to what he
had to say but it wouldn’t dent her resolutions.
“You can come in and talk while I unload and put away my groceries.
Then you have to leave.”
He’d take whatever crumbs she left for him. He followed her into the
house and headed to the garage to carry in her bags. The trunk was loaded.
How much food did she buy? Turned out most of it was jarred or dry goods.
Lots of different sauces with names on them he’d never heard. Packets of
seasoning he had no clue how to use. He carried bags into the kitchen and
she unpacked them and put the contents away.
“I should have everything put away in minutes, so if you have something
to say, say it soon,” she instructed him.
 He set the last four bags of groceries on the counter and leaned back,
crossing his arms. He didn’t admit he was wrong often, and apologized
even less.
“I want you to know I respect women.”
She looked up at him and quirked an eye. He swallowed.
“Have I ever been disrespectful towards you or any other women when
we’ve been together?”
“No,” she said, after deliberately taking her time thinking it over. That
was it. Okay.
“I voted for the fucker because I always voted conservative for reasons to
do with taxes and stupid regulations that make it harder for me to do my
job. I’m not a racist, and I’m not sexist. Well, no more than a guy can be in
this,” he choked, “patriarchal society.” Jasmine might have given him a
lesson in political vocabulary before she left for the day.
“The patriarchy?” She snorted. “You know what it is?”
Now she was being downright mean. It didn’t matter that he might not
have cared much about how America worked in the past, but he wasn’t a
complete idiot. She was determined to make his apology as difficult as
possible.
“Yes, I know what ‘patriarchy’ means.”
She paused unpacking a bag to look at him expectantly.
“Basically, it means men run things and women are supposed to do what
they say. I don’t agree with it.”
She looked down and finished unpacking a bag, before slanting him a
look, a sly expression in her eyes.
“So, you’re a feminist now?”
 Thank god, Jessica had re-educated him about that word, too. He knew
feminists weren’t all angry, men-hating lesbians because his sisters called
themselves feminists, but he didn’t know that men could be feminists too.
“Yep. Beth, I’ve got a mom, two sisters and a daughter. Do you think I
want them to have a harder time in the world going after their dreams? Do
you think I think I’m better than you because I’m a guy? Hell, no. I’m well
aware women are about a hundred times stronger and smarter than most
men.”
She snorted again. Okay, that might have been an exaggeration. His
frustration increased as the difficulty of expressing what he thought became
impossible to hide.
He couldn’t stay away any longer. He needed a physical connection. He
circled the island and put his hands on her hips. He loved the way her
narrow waist flared out into feminine curves. She tried to back away half-
heartedly, but he held her in place. He could sense her anger draining away.
“Are men physically stronger than women? Yeah. And I like the idea of
using my strength to keep you safe and take care of stuff that require lifting
heavy things and getting dirty. I mean, what else does a guy have to give a
woman like you?”
That seemed to crack her shell. She placed a hand on his chest, over his
heart. It was good to feel her touch, but she used it to maintain a distance
between them.
“Chris. You’re worth more than the things you can do for a woman
physically, although those things are nice. I can’t remember a time I
enjoyed hanging out, watching movies and chilling with someone more
than I have with you. Ending our, us, this...” She gestured to the space
between them with her free hand.
 “It’s about the difference in our values. Even if you don’t think women
are supposed to depend on men, you’re willing to support people who do.
For me, politics are deeply personal. They always have been. When that
terrible man got elected to the presidency, it was a big middle finger to all
women.”
He nodded in agreement. “I fucked up, voting for him.” Beth’s eyes
flared. “The first time. I can give you lots of excuses. I had lost hope in all
politicians to get anything done, didn’t matter which party. I thought the
guy would shake things up. All my buddies were voting for him. I was busy
with several extensive projects and didn’t pay much attention to what was
happening on television, on the radio. If political ads came on, I changed
the channel. I’d always voted conservative, so I voted red down the party
ticket. Those are explanations. I have no excuses. I know better than to vote
without educating myself on the people running and the issues, and I did it
anyway.”
“What about the liberal candidate, the woman? Did you dislike her? Did
you buy into the whole email debacle or agree she should be locked up?”
“No fucking way. I actually hate those kinds of bullshit attacks.”
Beth looked at him, searching for the truth in his eyes, and he did his best
to bare his soul.
Then he looked down. Might as well strip himself down emotionally.
“I didn’t get it until I went down to have Sunday dinner with my mom,
sisters, and Jessica after the election. They were all so depressed, moping
around, sort of shellshocked. My mom even burned dinner. That’s when I
knew how serious the election was for women. I couldn’t even tell them I’d
voted for the guy without thinking about what it meant to them at all. I
might be defensive about how things turned out.”
 She sighed and some of the tension eased out of her body.
“I would take back my vote if I could. I honestly don’t think any of the
candidates are doing what they’re supposed to these days. There’s a lot of
bullshit corruption happening in both parties. Does it mean anything I didn’t
vote for him the second time?”
Beth looked up at him, shaking her head.
He started to panic. He wasn’t going to be able to talk her into giving him
another chance. Then she surprised him.
“I was wrong to not give you a chance to explain. The consequences for
women from the first term though…the people appointed to the courts, and
the chaos allowed to spread across all the departments in the government…
it isn’t going to get repaired by another leader, not in one term. It’s always
more work and time to clean up a mess than it is to make it. The damage
has been done.”
He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, asking for forgiveness
with his caress.
“I’m fairly skilled in cleaning up messes.”
For the first time since he’d seen her in the parking lot, a smile tipped up
the edges of her mouth. A small smile. He’d take what he could get.
“That mean you’re planning to run for office?”
“No fucking way.”

OceanofPDF.com
 Chapter Fifteen

BETH TRIED TO STAY practical and firm against the double assault of
Chris’ apology and his gentle touch. She’d made mistakes in the past, and
she knew it took a strong person to own up to their actions. Chris seemed
genuinely regretful over having voted for someone so callous and
indifferent to women’s lives and struggles. She suspected most people
would not acknowledge they’d made a bad choice.
So, she focused on the one thing making a long-term relationship with
Chris impossible. His casual sexual history.
She pushed back out of his reach and picked up a couple of cans and
carried them to the pantry. He grabbed several larger cans and followed her.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she took them from him and placed them
on the shelves where she wanted them. When she turned to go back into the
kitchen, he didn’t move, his arms spanning the doorway, trapping her in the
small closet pantry. He dressed in a work t-shirt that did little to hide his
muscled arms. Even this many hours after work, he smelled of sawdust and
clean, masculine sweat. Her ex wore cologne, but Chris seemed to eschew
it, and she had to admit she liked his natural scent better. Inhaling it was
like ingesting an aphrodisiac. The woman’s perfume had faded. A shiver of
sexual awareness skated down her spine and her heart rate sped up.
“If you aren’t still mad at me about politics, then what is it?”
She studied his face, shadowed with the overhead kitchen light, lighting a
halo of yellow around his skull. She knew he was no angel. Could she trust
a man she barely knew? He could charm her more than anyone she’d ever
met. When he focused his attention on her, its intensity made her feel like
the most important person in the world to him. What heterosexual woman
could withstand the masculinity he radiated without even thinking about it?
Certainly not the woman outside the store.
She straightened her shoulders and spine. She’d survived the terrible
conversation with Kyle when he admitted to his affair and the awful
consequences, getting his lover pregnant. She’d survive this conversation,
too.
“Who was the woman?”
Chris stepped back into the kitchen, took a ragged breath, and ran his
hands down over his face. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before
leaning back against the counter, catching her wrists in his hands, and
tugging her to him. He positioned his big, booted feet on either side of her
slim tennis shoes, cradling her with his body.
“She’s part of my past. I met her for dinner to let her know I’d met
someone and it was serious. I told her I wouldn’t be coming to see her
again.”
Beth lifted her chin and stared him in the eye.
“Did you tell her before or after the kiss? Because if you told her before,
she didn’t believe you.”
 “I figured that out myself. It doesn’t matter though. She knows we were
never serious. She lives down in Albuquerque, and I was only seeing her
about once a month, when I was down to visit my mom and my sisters.”
“Which you will continue to do, making future hook-ups easy to
arrange.”
“Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, it’d be hard to hook up with Evelyn
if I’ve got you in my bed.”
“Now you’re proposing to take me to Albuquerque every time you go to
prove you won’t sleep with other women?”
Beth chewed her lip. She wondered if he’d thought about taking her to
meet his family. It didn’t matter, even though she was curious to meet his
daughter, his mom, and his sisters. It didn’t matter if he was ready. She
wasn’t. Someday she’d recover from being cheated on by her ex, but she
wasn’t there yet. She placed her hand flat on his warm chest. The night had
grown chilly, and the house was cold. As her temper cooled, so did her
awareness of the chill.
“I may be over my husband, but I’m not sure I’ll ever be over the pain
and rejection of being cheated on.” She tried to explain in a way that didn’t
relate to the incident in Santa Fe. “It’s probably the one scar that will never
fully heal, Chris. It’s illogical for me to think a man like you, who has never
committed to one woman, would commit to me.”
Chris placed her arms up around his shoulders, pulled her up against his
body, and slid his hands down to rest on her hips, holding her close. He
knew she had difficulty resisting his touch. Damn him. He bent his head
and spoke into her ear, his breath warming and seducing her.
“Why is it illogical to think a man who has never cheated on anyone
would cheat on you?”
 That concept set Beth back on her heels. Could that be the truth? That
Chris’ refusal to never commit to someone was because he wasn’t a
cheater?
“But you you’ve never been faithful to one either. One woman will
eventually bore you. I’d bore you.”
Chris slid his lips along her jaw and then pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.
“Beth, honey, you couldn’t bore me if you tried. I am fascinated by
everything about you. Your eyes, your lips, your soft earlobes, your
sensitive neck, your…”
As he listed the things about her fascinating him, his lips trailed over
each item, seducing her into wanting him to continue and never stop. He
sucked on the tender skin at her collarbone.
“Chris,” she breathed in half-hearted protest.
He pulled back and kissed her forehead.
“Of course, I’m mostly hot for your mind. You aren’t the only one who
enjoyed hanging out, watching movies, talking. We took a bad turn when
we started talking politics, but before that moment, we were like long-lost
friends, catching up, learning who each other had become. There wasn’t an
uncomfortable moment between us. Hell, just riding in the truck to Santa Fe
and back was like sliding into an old worn pair of jeans, we fit so well
together.”
“This is happening too fast, though, don’t you think?”
“Feels fast, but it feels right. Think about this. I was faithful as a father.
I’ve supported and loved my daughter for over 20 years. That’s
commitment, isn’t it?”
Chris kissed her again, deeper this time, probing her with his tongue,
asking for entry to her mouth and she opened up beneath him, unable to
deny him. With a hungry groan, he invaded and kissed her for a long time
before slowing things down and pulling back to soft kisses designed to cool
them down.
“I don’t know how long it takes to fall for someone because it’s never
happened to me. Plus, we’re not sixteen, Beth. We’re grown adults who
know ourselves and what we like. I like you. I think you like me.”
She didn’t deny it.
“What about the next election?”
Chris grimaced. “Well, fortunately, the next presidential election isn’t for
a couple of years. I think we can respect each other’s viewpoints and give
each other the space to vote the way we see fit. I promise to let you lay out
your arguments on every issue and to consider your point of view before I
decide who to vote for, if you’ll do the same for me. I can promise you I’ll
be more careful in future about the people I vote for. Not only for you, or
women in general, but for my mom, my sisters, and my daughter.”
Beth made a face. “I’m afraid. I don’t think I’m ready to get hurt again.”
Chris pulled her in tight then, and they hugged. She pressed the side of
her face against his chest, over where his heart thumped steady, if a little
fast.
It was his heartbeat and the security she felt in his arms that finally
convinced her to release her reservations. He was alive, real, a person she
wanted to know, wanted to spend time with, wanted to share experiences
with. He was right. They weren’t young and impulsive, even though the
chemistry between them had tossed them into a storm of passion. Chris was
a risk, but hadn’t quitting her job and moving to Santa Fe been a risk?
Wasn’t writing a book a risk? Was she ready to settle into retirement like
she was 71 instead of 51?
 At their age, they should be able to judge themselves and each other
better than someone in their 20s or 30s. They were at a golden time, old
enough to have survived their pasts, but young enough to still explore new
experiences.
Chris promised new experiences. He wasn’t afraid to try things in the
bedroom. Things she’d wondered about, read about, wished to try for
herself. That hadn’t been possible in her marriage, and it wasn’t possible if
she rejected Chris. She wasn’t willing to risk her safety with strangers, or
go to some swinging sex club, if there was even one in New Mexico. She
laughed. Chris would know.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just a thought I had.”
“About?”
“Swinger clubs in Santa Fe.”
“What?” Chris moved her out and tipped her face up to look into her
face, alarm and concern darkening his expression.
She grinned at him. “You told me you were willing to help me explore
my sexual fantasies.”
His scowl deepened until his eyebrows bunched and nearly met over his
eyes.
“I’m not saying I haven’t been around group sex, but there is no way in
hell I’m letting other men watch or touch you like that. Ever.”
She stretched up on her toes and tugged him down for a kiss.
“What if that’s what I want?”
He clunked his forehead against hers.
“Shit. Is it?”
 She thought about letting him squirm over the possibility she’d be asking
him to take her swinging, but then his sincere unhappiness over it made her
take pity on him.
“No. I was checking your boundaries.”
Chris gave her a look like she was in trouble now. He swatted her butt
harder than any love tap.
“Ow!”
“Are we back together?” he asked.
She nodded. “Were we ever actually together?”
“Beth,” he warned.
She laughed again. “We’re back together.”
“Good. Also, my STD tests came back clean.”
Then she let out a squeal as he picked her up and tossed her over his
shoulder.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, breathless from being held upside
down. She clutched at his hips.
“Now, you’re going to get punished for driving way too fast in the dark.”
“Wait, I wasn’t going that fast.”
“Since I was following you, I damned well know how fast you were
going. You practically rolled your car at the offramp.”
She squirmed and tried and get away as he approached the stairs to go up.
“Chris, please, I’m too heavy—”
“No, you’re not.”
He swatted her butt again, even harder than before.
“Stop moving, or you’ll make us fall down the stairs.”
She stopped moving.
 He mounted the stairs and entered her bedroom, clicking on the overhead
light. Next to the bed, he shifted her up and tossed her roughly down on the
soft mattress. She tried to get up, but he held her down and yanked off her
shoes, then her socks, and then unbuttoned and stripped her pants off as
well, taking her underwear with them. Before she knew it, he had seated
himself on the side of the bed and had her turned over his knee, one hand on
her back holding her down on the mattress and the other resting lightly on
her exposed bared bottom.
She was half in shock. He continually amazed her with his strength.
“Now. You will admit you drove too fast to be safe and now you need to
be punished for it because you made me worry.”
Beth gulped. She’d fantasized this scene more than once and it was
happening. Right now. Was she ready? She checked her feelings.
Excitement, not fear. She realized she trusted Chris not to hurt her, well, not
to hurt her too much. She knew he’d let her go if she told him to. She didn’t
want to.
He bent down next to her ear. “This punishment is going to result in the
hottest make-up sex you’ve ever had.”
She clutched the quilt in her hands. They were sweating.
“I may have driven slightly fast for the road conditions.”
Wham. She started at the sudden sound and pain of Chris spanking her.
Her skin stung from the impact. Part of her wanted to laugh in discomfort,
while the rest of her focused on the warm sensation spreading across her ass
and down into more intimate areas.
“That apology was half-assed. Try again.”
“I took the offramp too fast and I should have slowed down. A bit.”
 Bam. Bam. Bam. Bam. Four strikes, alternating one cheek and then the
next.
“Better. Try again.”
Her whole bottom was on fire, and she was turned on.
“Chris, I’m sorry I made you worry. I was driving recklessly, and it was
stupid of me.”
“That’s better. Now you’ve got five more spankings.”
“But—”
Ignoring her protest, Chris delivered five more hard swats.
The pain was intense enough to bring tears to Beth’s eyes. Finally, they
were over and Chris was caressing her, trailing the tips of his calloused
fingers over her aroused skin, and then down between her thighs. He
chuckled.
“I don’t think I need to ask whether that turned you on,” he said. “You’re
soaking wet.”
She flushed in embarrassment, glad her face was hidden in the quilt.
Chris turned her upright and sat her in his lap. He gently wiped her few
tears away and began unbuttoning her top.
“Let’s get you naked. I need to be inside you.”
Beth shrugged out of her shirt and bra, squirming on his lap, his erection
pressing into her hip.
“Up on all fours, honey.”
She got up and climbed onto the bed to follow his instructions. She
looked back over her shoulder to watch him strip, unveiling all those hard
muscles. She loved his body. She loved his thick cock.
He paused at the side of the bed and looked at her long and hard, his gaze
roaming over her hair, her face, her back, her reddened backside, and down
her legs.
“Fuck, if you aren’t the sexiest woman I have ever been with.”
“Yes,” she urged him on.
She loved him. She did. It was crazy and wild and unexpected, but it was
the truth. No man had ever made her feel so free, so sexy, so cared for, or so
accepted. Maybe it was who she was now, or maybe it was who he was, or
maybe it was all in the timing, but this thing between them exceeded all her
real-life experiences and verged into fantasy.
Then, she stopped thinking, giving herself over to the pleasure of Chris
sinking into her, filling her.

After Beth read him a scene from her drafted novel, which led to two more
rounds of sex in less than an hour, the first hard and fast, the second slow
and lingering, Chris reluctantly threw on his clothes and drove over to his
place to feed the dogs, let them out to pee, and then brought them back with
him for the night. He could hardly believe his behavior, but he was even
pondering the benefits of what it would be like living with Beth in one
house instead of two. When he returned, he discovered a freshly showed
Beth in one of her silk robes, this one covered in brightly colored flowers,
her wet hair wound up in a towel. She was staring at her phone as she
finished putting her groceries away one-handed.
She immediately set the phone down to greet the dogs, who were ecstatic
about being at Beth’s again. They seem to have missed her as much as he
had. After several minutes of pets and kisses, he told the dogs to go lay
down, and they obediently headed for the rug in front of the television,
where they sprawled out on Beth’s thick carpet like they’d returned home
from a 20-mile hike.
“Did you text your friends that you’re giving me another chance?”
“I texted them that it’s possible to fight and still have fun.”
He pulled Beth into a loose hug. The club had a planned ride up to
Durango on Sunday. The weather was forecasted to be beautiful, and the
waterfalls were nice this time of the year. It would be a long first ride for
her, but he was itching to get out on the road, and if Beth was sore by the
end of the day, he’d give her a nice, long massage. Hopefully, she’d say yes.
“What do you think about going riding this weekend? The club I’m part
of is going up to Durango to take in the spring waterfalls.”
She looked up at him, grimacing. “I have my writer’s group meeting on
Saturday morning, and I can’t let anything interfere with those plans.”
He nuzzled her neck. “Do you need someone to listen to you read the sex
scenes out loud before you go, to make sure they sound good and realistic?
I’m happy to play critique partner or help with your research.”
She playfully smacked his arm.
“No. Not yet.” Her pale face flamed up red. It would have lit on fire if
she’d been a candle.
He smiled fondly down at her. His prim little wild cat. She fascinated and
pleased him. If she wanted to be a writer, he’d do everything to support her
achieving her dreams.
“The ride is on Sunday afternoon, so there’s no conflict.”
“I don’t think I have the right gear to wear.”
“You have jeans, right?”
“Yeah.”
 “I’ve got a pair of old chaps and an extra leather jacket you can wear.
They’ll be a little big on you, but they’ll do.” He liked the idea of her
wearing his things. He still didn’t know if he’d changed his outlook or Beth
had changed it, and frankly, he didn’t care. “I’ll pick up a new helmet and
gloves for you tomorrow during the day.”
She snuggled into his arms and everything felt right in the world. He
patted her rear, wondering whether she’d still be in pain by the time they
rode out. He didn’t think so. He’d taken care not to deliver more than short-
lived consequences for her reckless driving, and to stimulate her arousal as
part of sex. Shit, he was no sadist and he could tell she was no masochist.
He’d been with both, and as far as he could tell, Beth was more curious than
kinky. Curious and responsive. He grinned. He’d enjoy exploring her
boundaries. He grew half hard as a few scenarios flash through his head.
“I can buy my own helmet,” she told him, drawing his attention back to
the ride. It was hard to believe a couple weeks ago he’d been thinking he
might need little blue pills to get hard, and now his well-used dick was
trying to rise a third time in hours, simply from standing here holding Beth
in his arms. He focused back on the ride.
“Let’s see how you like riding, and then you can buy leather pants and a
jacket that fits.”
She smiled shyly up at him. “So, I guess I’ll meet all your friends. And
I’ll have to call you Can-Can, or they won’t know who I’m talking about.”
He chuckled. “Some of them are crazy, mostly the younger ones. My
guys are older and more laid back now.”
He let her go and together, they turned back to putting away the last few
items on the counter.
 “You’ll meet one of my foremen, Bill, and his old lady Judy. They’re in
their 70s.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “They ride motorcycles at that age?”
He nodded. “If you take to it, there’s nothing like being out on the open
road on a bike. It’s addictive.”
“Okay. I look forward to it.”
He looked forward to having her on his bike, her legs hugging his, her
arms looped around him. Hell, he looked forward to showing her off and
letting everyone know she was his old lady. Then, the following weekend,
he’d take her down to Albuquerque to meet his mom and sisters for their
once-a-month Sunday dinner. She’d already agreed to go with him. He
wondered if asking Jessica to come would be too much.
Beth topped up her glass of wine and started to pour a glass for him.
He put his hand over the empty glass.
“Let’s share, if it’s okay. I’m beat.” More like he was horny.
“Did you want to go to bed now?”
He looked at the time on the stove.
“Nah, it’s only 9:00. Let’s watch something, hang out with the dogs.”
He hadn’t been exaggerating when he told her he enjoyed watching
television with her. It was a like having a conversation prompter, with them
watching for a bit, pausing to discuss the show, then resuming play. He
never would have thought he’d have the patience to stop and start a show so
often that it took twice as long to get through the program, but he
discovered he liked discussing the characters and the action with Beth. It
was an opportunity to talk about the things that mattered to him. She
seemed to want to know what he thought about everything. She turned
watching television into an interactive experience rather than a mindless
zoning out. Of course, they didn’t always stop a show to talk.
They moved into the living room, turning off the kitchen and hall lights,
and switching on a low lamp at the side of the sofa. They sank down into
the comfort of the large piece of furniture, and Beth turned on the television
with the remote. As soon as they were settled, the dogs roused themselves
and came to sit at their feet.
“Well, come on up,” Beth urged them and they leapt up eagerly, settling
in on either side of Chris and Beth. She didn’t turn on the television.
“You don’t think we’re rushing this relationship, do you?” she asked.
“What happens if we have another fight?”
Chris pressed his lips to her temple.
“Nah. We’re not 18 and trying to figure out who we are. We know what
we like and what matters to us. Regarding the fights, I’m going to be ready
next time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Bill and Judy have been together for 50 years. Whenever they get into it,
they take a timeout, then, after an hour or so, they meet up over ice cream at
the kitchen table and hash things out.”
“Okay,” she said. “A timeout? We’re not misbehaving or needing to be
disciplined if we’re fighting, right?”
“Bill says the timeout isn’t punishment. It’s to give them both time to
calm down, think about what they’re really upset about, think about what
they want to say on the issue, without being mean or hurtful.”
“Okay. I think that sounds good, if we’re both doing the work.”
“We both did the work on this first fight, didn’t we?”
 “Well, you did some groveling.” She gave him a coy sideways look. “I
didn’t question myself much. Instead, I think I doubled down on my side of
the argument.”
He shook his head.
“You actually didn’t. You stayed true to your position, but you also
listened to me, gave me a chance to explain myself, accepted my apology,
and you didn’t bury the issue to fester into another fight down the road,
since whom I vote for was far more important to you than it has been for
me.”
“Is it important to you now?”
“You’re important to me now, so what you think is important to me. I can
be a real dickhead, but I know I fuck up from time to time, and I’m not
against being corrected. Hell, I needed to be corrected. In this instance. Just
like you needed to be corrected about driving too fast in the dark.”
“I guess I’ll be spanking you later when we go to bed, then.”
He laughed, deep and unexpectedly.
“That’s not how this works.” He ran his hand down over her backside
and gave it a quick squeeze.
Beth smiled and snugged into him. She probably knew she’d hurt her
hand spanking him long before he’d feel any pain from her efforts. God, he
loved her.
He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly,
remembering the third thing Jasmine had beaten into his head.
“I have another confession to make.”
Beth stiffened in his arms and sat up. She narrowed her eyes at him.
Chris looked into those beautiful, intelligent eyes, brushed his thumb
across her full bottom lip.
 “Just so you know, I’m falling head-over-heels in love with you, Beth
Berne.”
The smile that bloomed over her face made the risk of opening his heart
—and consulting her on every election ballot for the foreseeable future—
well worth it.
“I am falling in love with you too,” she confessed. He felt his heart crack
open.
They kissed deeply, thoroughly, until one of the dogs whined for
attention. He pulled back reluctantly. He figured it was going to be a long
time before he needed any little blue pills with this woman in his life. But
he was making his doctor’s appointment as soon as possible because he was
done using condoms. He brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.
“I better invest in a gourmet ice cream company.”
“Why? Are we going to have a lot of fights?”
“Some. The same as other couples. What we’re going to be is together
for a long time. I’m in this for the long ride.”
“As long as we keep it wild and true,” she said, shifting and swinging her
leg over to straddle him.
They didn’t end up streaming anything on television that night.

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 Epilogue

Adriana: HOW WAS THE MOTORCYCLE RIDE?

Penny: MORE IMPORTANT, HOW WAS MEETING THE FAMILY?
Beth: THE BIKE RIDE WAS AMAZING. I LOVED IT. FAMILY
GREAT TOO.
Adriana: WE’RE COMING TO VISIT BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS.
NEED TO MEET THAT MAN.
Beth: THAT'S IN TWO WEEKS!
Adriana: DON'T REMIND US.
Penny: HEY, DID YOU FINISH YOUR BOOK?
Beth: YEAH. BUT I STARTED A NEW ONE. IT’S ABOUT A BIKER
AND A TEACHER.
Penny: MAYBE YOU SHOULD WRITE IT ABOUT TWO QUILTERS.
Beth: WHAT?! I NEED DETAILS.
Adriana: NO WAY. I KNOW HOW YOU WRITERS GET YOUR
IDEAS.
Beth: WHAT?
Penny: HAHAHA.
OceanofPDF.com
 About Selene

Selene Grace Silver is a romance novelist. She writes and publishes in

several romance subgenres, including contemporary, paranormal, Gothic
and science fiction romance (SFR).
After earning two degrees in writing, and teaching writing and literature
to others for more than twenty years, she is finally devoting herself to being
a full-time writer. When she’s not writing, she gardens, cooks, travels, reads
extensively, streams shows and movies, and dabbles at painting.
She lives in a small southern California seaside town (a lifelong dream
after growing up in landlocked North Dakota) with her Scottish husband (a
teenage dream from reading far too many historical Scottish romances).
For more information about her publications and upcoming books, check
out her website at selenegracesilver.com, and follow her on BookBub,
Goodreads, and her author pages on retail book sites.

Authors depend on reader reviews for continued sales. Please consider

leaving a review on the retail site where you obtained this book, as well as
online where you post your reading experiences. Selene will be forever
grateful.

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Also by Selene

Contemporary Romance

The Swing of Her Hips

Crash Into My Heart

Her New Year's Knight

Paranormal Romance

Brianna's Bewitching

The Binding of Adara

The Earth Witch

Science Fiction Romance

Light Up the Dark

Razer's Edge
Be sure to click the + Follow button on Selene's author pages on sites like
GoodReads and BookBub to get alerts on new releases.

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 Excerpt

Her New Year's

Knight

“Darla, darling! You made it!”

Darla adjusted her sensibilities to take in the exuberant atmosphere of her
new neighbor’s apartment. Familiar carols boomed out from the living
room. The sound of fine crystal clinking and laugher floated out to the
hallway from various rooms. She bent, submitted to her petite neighbor’s
air kisses and handed the woman a bottle of her favorite Sauvignon Blanc,
already chilled.
The elderly woman, Maureen, tittered, a long necklace of tiny, multi-
colored holiday bells jingling around her neck. Her equally festive,
beribboned miniature poodle danced and yapped excitedly about her feet.
Maureen latched possessively onto Darla’s arm.
“You didn’t need to bring anything but yourself, dear. But thank you. You
know it’s my favorite.”
 She paused, looked Darla up and down critically before nodding in
satisfaction. Darla wore a red knit dress that snuggly hugged her curves, a
dress she braved wearing only because Maureen had insisted on it the day
before when she’d popped by to invite her to tonight’s party. When she’d
tried to decline the invitation on the grounds that she had nothing to wear to
a Christmas party, Maureen had sailed into her bedroom, quickly sorted
through her closet and had pulled out the brightly-colored knit dress
triumphantly.
Darla found it impossible to say no to the kind-hearted busybody, even
though she knew the dress currently fit a little too tightly across her chest
and hips. At twenty-six, her long-awaited womanly curves had delayed their
arrival until last year. Four years ago, when she’d worn the dress last, it had
hung modestly over her slender body, like a deflated balloon. Throughout
high school and college, she’d still been plagued with a body most
unflatteringly called scrawny, scarecrow, anorexic, stick-thin, and skin and
bones.
Tonight though, she feared the clingy dress made her look like she’d
suited up for the evening escort business. The only thing saving the dress
from being completely slutty was the mock turtleneck covering her to her
throat, the three quarter length sleeves, and the hemline modestly skirting
the tops of her knee-high boots. Fortunately, most of Maureen’s old
Hollywood movie friends would be over seventy so, at most, she’d give the
elderly men a little thrill or two. No risk in that, right?
“Now,” her new friend said, tucking the wine bottle carelessly under one
arm and gesturing to two baskets on the entry table, “What’s it going to be?
Jingle bell necklace or Santa hat?
 Darla considered her options. The flannel hat would be too much for the
warm, crowded apartment and would eventually flatten her dark hair into
helmet head.
“Bells, I guess.”
To please the elderly lady, she plopped a strand over her head, doubling it
when it proved to be longer than she expected. Maureen fussed over her
hair, tucking one side behind her ear. The sleek, dark locks against her pale
skin highlighted Darla’s widow’s peak, framing her heart-shaped face.
“I’m glad you aren’t looking so tired tonight. You’re awfully wan-
looking though. Do you want to borrow some lipstick? I’ve got a red that
would match your dress perfectly.”
She would look washed-out against Maureen’s brightly rouged cheeks.
She suspected the woman wore stage make-up for everyday life. It was
immaculately applied though. And for a senior citizen, the woman was still
remarkably beautiful.
“I don’t really wear lipstick much, but thank you. And I actually slept
eight hours last night. No clients today.”
“Good. It’s the holiday. People shouldn’t be working. And tonight could
go late for you.”
She winked meaningfully at Darla. Uh oh.
“The holidays are why I’ve been working long hours. I’m a psychologist
and depression is rampant this time of the year.”
“How can you sit and listen to people’s problems all day? It amazes me.
So depressing! All the more reason to have someone wonderful to come
home to afterwards, dear.”
“You don’t come home to anyone except Princess,” Darla teased her new
friend.
 “Pshaw. I’m old. I’ve had my share of handsome men, honey. I was a
Hollywood actress, you know. And believe me, Princess is great company
for an old gal. But you—you’re too young to substitute a dog for a healthy
young man.”
“I didn’t realize there was much difference between guys and dogs,”
Darla muttered under her breath. She’d signed off men more than a year ago
when the last one turned out to need alcohol even more than her father had.
She was resigned to only attracting narcissistic alcoholics. It must be
tattooed on her forehead. Codependent. All addicts welcome. She didn’t
anticipate that ever changing. She turned to follow Maureen and warily
noted once again the determined look on her neighbor’s face as she
marched Darla into the kitchen.
“We’ll just put this wine in to chill some more and then I have someone
for you to meet.”
“Maureen,” she chided, holding back. “Not another one. We’ve discussed
this.”
In the past month, ever since she’d moved into the apartment across the
walkway, Maureen had tried to set her up on dates, including with three
with men who lived in the complex. A big no-no in Darla’s book, since that
kind of proximity would make for awkward run-ins later, after she
determine the man was unsuitable, or he found her to be too cold, too
reserved, too…frigid. A previous boyfriend had told her that her reserved
nature was the equivalent to her being an ice queen in bed. She’d managed
to dodge all of Maureen’s efforts.
“This one is special.”
Darla groaned. “That’s what you’ve said every time.”
 “I mean it this time. In fact, I can’t believe I didn’t think of Jake when I
first met you. He’s here tonight with his father instead at his mother’s in
San Diego. I’m losing my touch. Jake Knight is my second cousin’s
nephew. Good-looking young man. Hunky.”
“I should have guessed,” Darla groaned. She glanced down at her outfit.
The dress was clingy in all the ways to catch a man’s attention. She looked
like a woman on the make for a man. She should return to her apartment
and change immediately but Maureen was already dragging her towards the
main room.
With a resigned sigh and suppressing an overwhelming desire to turn tail
and run back across the hall to put on a less revealing dress, Darla let
herself be led into the living room. She decided that the universe had
definitely sent Maureen into her life to teach her to learn to say no and
mean it. She’d been constantly tested by the determined woman. Darla
smiled. Too bad for Maureen that she was such an excellent test-taker.
At well over six feet, Jake Knight was impossible to miss. Standing near
a brightly twinkling tree, he towered over the geriatric, arthritic senior
citizens clustered around him, his Santa hat set at a cocky angle on his
curly, pale blond head. He was smiling, laughing at something a blue-haired
woman told him and his happy chuckle vibrated across the room and played
itself down Darla’s spine. Then he turned to look her way, and his dark
espresso brown eyes sparked with interest. Her nipples instantly hardened.
And predictably, for a guy anyway, his gaze zeroed right in on them.

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