Colorado 03 Lady Luck (28 page)

It was Wednesday, two days after we became
us. Two
magnificent
days
after we became us. Asshole Ty was long gone. Taciturn Ty was a
memory. He didn’t share much verbally but he shared.

Oh yeah, he shared.

And mostly he did this through sex.
Lots
of it.

He was making up for lost time, so was I,
this was true. But it was mostly that it was just that good. We
managed to eat and he went to work. Monday night, he worked out
after work. Other than that, we were in bed (and once we were on
the couch). We’d talk in between times, before we drifted off to
sleep, or I would talk, he didn’t say much and I would talk mostly
in whispers. This didn’t last long before he turned into me with
intent. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear what I had to say, it
was just that we had better things to do.

I shouldn’t compare Ty with Ronnie and
wouldn’t tell Ty that, in my mind, I did.

But I did.

I couldn’t help it. I’d had two lovers and
they were night and day.

Ronnie, hit and miss. He tried but sometimes
he failed and I didn’t have the heart to tell him he did or where
he went wrong. It upset him when I did; he’d go into himself or get
mildly pissed so I learned to stop doing that.

Ty hit, every time.

This would have freaked me out, how good
he was at it, but thinking on it, it didn’t. First, he had a great
body and he was in command of it. Not just during sex but all the
time. Second, he was strong as in
very
strong. Ronnie was no weakling and took care of his body as
a matter of habit and survival. But the strength of his lean muscle
was nothing in comparison to the power behind the bulk of Ty. And
Ty used his strength during sex in a dizzying variety of delicious
ways. Third, Ty was seriously hot and, prior to his incarceration,
he had to have had his fair share of practice and then some. And
last, Ty had already proved he was generous and sex was no
different. He saw to me, sometimes twice (once three times) before
he took care of himself. He never left me hanging or took care of
me after. Not once.

It was phenomenal. So phenomenal, I didn’t
mind that there was no further heart-to-heart sharing from Ty. What
he was giving me,
all
of it, was
just fine. Better. It was perfect.

I moved to him, set his travel mug on the
counter by his hip, got as close as his bowl would let me, leaned a
hip into the counter and instantly started bitching.

“Seven o’clock is a ridiculous time to have
to be at work.”

His beautiful eyes on me, he chewed,
swallowed and replied, “Told you, you don’t have to get up with
me.”

Yeah, right, like I’d miss taking a shower
with him. Not gonna happen.

I communicated this with my eyes and a tip
of my head. He read it loud and clear and his lips tilted up at the
sides.

Then he spoke again. “Seven o’clock means
gettin’ off at four unless they need me to do overtime. I could do
nine thirty to six thirty but I like the evenings clear. Don’t
sleep late, that time in the morning would be a waste.”

“Mm,” I mumbled and his lips twitched.

“
Mama, fuckin’ you in the shower, doable.
We
really
start to
play, I won’t wanna go and how are you gonna get deck furniture if
I don’t have a paycheck?”

He had a point.

And he called me “mama” in his soft voice.
That was a new one. I liked it.

Not to mention, I was discovering
we
seriously
needed
deck furniture.

“Whatever you wanna do, honey,” I
muttered.

“Yeah,” he muttered back, shoved the last
spoonful in his mouth, chewed, swallowed then dipped his head to
touch his lips to mine and moved around me to get to the sink,
saying, “Gonna hit the gym before I come home. Be back at around
six.”

I turned with him so I was facing him when I
replied as he put his bowl in the sink and walked back to me,
“Right. Anything you want for dinner or are you gonna do a
shake?”

“Food,” he said, making it to me, putting a
hand light on my hip and leaning his face close. “Whatever you
make, I’ll eat.” He again touched his mouth to mine then said
against it, “Later, Lex.”

“Later, honey,” I whispered against his.

He bent his head forward an inch which
touched his forehead to mine and he did this for half a second
before his forehead and his hand went away because he’d tagged his
travel mug and was sauntering to the stairs.

I watched him until he disappeared then I
warmed up my coffee, took it out to the sunny deck and sipped it at
the railing, taking in a view I knew I’d never get used to.

I saw the view, I loved the view but mostly
I loved that standing at that railing, this time, I felt full.
Sated. Replete.

And I hadn’t had breakfast.

Once I hit the bottom of the mug, I wandered
into the house, refreshed my coffee and then wandered up the steps.
I went to my lingerie drawer, dug under my stuff and pulled out the
glossy violet and ice blue folder. I opened it, pulled out an eight
by ten then replaced the folder in the drawer.

Then I wandered down the steps to the
pantry. I pulled out a thick, brown paper bag that had a red stamp
on the side with some lasso-style ropes around Old West-style words
that said “Carnal Country Store”. I took it to the island, set the
picture and my mug down and dug stuff out of the bag that I bought
in town yesterday after I had my job interview.

Carnal Country Store was a gift slash
souvenir shop. They had a multi-theme going. Old West slash
Colorado Mountains slash Bikers slash Country. It was wild but it
worked. There was a lot of wood. A lot of antlers. A lot of
feathers. A lot of buffalo. Being Carnal, which was definitely a
biker haven and not the pedal kind, it also had a bunch of biker
stuff. This was intermingled with an abundance of full on country
wares that were mostly really cute but not my style (or Ty’s) and
some local artisan stuff which included some seriously kickass
pottery. And, luckily, for those with a discerning eye and because
it was the only gift shop in Carnal (except the florist who had a
few frames, vases and knick knacks – not having a job and with time
on my hands I’d definitely spent time perusing what Carnal had to
offer, so much I had it down pat), they had some nicer stuff
too.

And I said this was “luckily” because,
although Ty was born in that county, he was not a feathers,
antlers, buffalo, biker or country wares kind of guy.

So I got the stuff I got and it was pricey
but since Ty paid for nearly everything, I had most of the wad of
cash Shift gave me to finance my journey, so I went a little crazy
thinking some Shift in an alternate universe would want to give Ty
and I a wedding present (or, as it turned out, several). I also
went a little crazy because it was “nice shit” so it would fit.

I pulled out a beautiful, wide-edged,
beveled silver frame, took off the back and then put our wedding
picture in it. I turned it around after I secured the back and
there we were. My dress. My bouquet. Ty in his suit. Me smiling
bright and big. Ty looking hot.

I studied it thinking, at the time that
photo was taken, I would never have guessed two weeks later I’d
spend that much money on the perfect frame for that picture because
that picture needed the perfect frame.

But I did because that picture needed the
perfect frame.

I smiled at it then I walked it to the
living room and put it on the sleek, polished wood mantel set into
the stone hearth above the fireplace. It was the only thing
there.

Still, it looked good.

Then I went back to the bag and yanked out
the thick folder that held the photos I processed at the kiosk in
the grocery store. I also pulled another frame out of the bag, this
one six by eight with a simple but thick, matte black edge. Then I
flipped through the photos I developed to find the one I knew I
wanted. Ty and me and Moab, shot from waist up, my cheek to his
chest, my arms around his middle, his arm around my shoulders, our
shades directed at the lens, an infinitesimal section of Moab our
stunning backdrop. I framed it and put it in the deep sill at the
window over the kitchen sink.

I went back to the island, sipped more
coffee then again hit the pantry, pulling out the two, bigger bags.
I took them to the island and unearthed from bunches of tissue the
three charcoal gray matte pitchers with their spindly handles in
black gloss, rim, lip and inside that same gloss. Three of them,
one huge. One not as huge. One a little less than not as huge. I
arranged them in a circle in the middle of the island. Out next
came the wide, flat bowl of the same. I grabbed the bananas and dug
in the fridge for the apples and oranges, assembled them in the
bowl and put them on the short side counter between the stove and
the fridge. I cleared away the bags and tissue and set the pictures
on a side counter to show Ty later.

Then I went to the cupboard, found the sugar
bowl and creamer and set those at an angle opposite the frame in
the windowsill. I looked from bowl and creamer to pitchers to
big-ass, kickass fruit bowl and was relieved to find I was right.
They complimented each other perfectly.

Then I grabbed my mug and took a sip, my
head moving in a slow swivel to take in the entirety of my
handiwork.

Something was missing.

I knew what it was, put my mug down and
dashed up the stairs, digging in the back of my lingerie drawer; I
pulled it out and jogged back down the stairs.

Then I set the Treasure Island snow globe in
the middle of the deep sill over the kitchen sink where the picture
was angled in a corner and the sugar and creamer in the other. I’d
see it every time I did the dishes. And I liked that.

I moved to my mug, picked it up, backed up
until my hips hit counter and then surveyed the scene.

It wasn’t much of a stamp but it was
something.

And every bit was perfect.

Even the snow globe.

I grinned to myself and walked my coffee
upstairs to get dressed.

I had a house to clean then groceries to buy
and then I had to find a craft shop.

* * * * *

That afternoon, I drove into the mechanics,
my eyes moving between the three large bays at the same time
searching for a parking space.

I’d driven by the garage many times since I
hit Carnal but had never been there. The tarmac outside was huge. A
little office up some cement steps to the side of the bays. A
plethora of bikes and cars all around. Garage sounds coming at me
through my open windows.

I found my spot at the very end in front of
the office, parked, shut her down, got out and rounded the trunk,
eyes to the bays.

Then he came out, light gray-blue coveralls
unbuttoned to the waist, the top of them hanging down making it
look like he had an upside down shirt hanging from his hips. He had
on a white wife-beater that must have been in his workout bag
because he left in jeans and a tee. He looked hot even in that
getup, what with the muscles and tats on display, but he could
probably wear a pink polo shirt with the collar turned up and look
hot (though I hoped he never did).

He had black grease stains on his
wife-beater, all over his hands and up his forearms.

And I didn’t care.

I also didn’t care that I had on strappy,
super-high, platform wedges. I still ran flat out across the wide
expanse toward him and didn’t stop even as I noticed he saw I
wasn’t going to. So he did and he braced right before I took a
flying leap into his arms.

Those arms closed around me, mine closed
around his neck and I was suspended several inches off the ground
as my hand curled over his short-cropped hair and I pulled his
mouth to mine.

Then I laid a hot, wet one on him.

After I did that, I tore my mouth from his,
kept my arms tight and asked excitedly, “Guess what?”

“Lex, got grease all over me. What the
fuck?” was his taking-all-the-fun-out-of-it response.

My arms gave him a squeeze and I repeated,
“Ty! Guess what?”

His lips twitched and he asked, “What?”

“Dominic at Carnal Spa gave me the job!” I
cried loudly.

At that news, his arms gave me a squeeze and
he muttered, “Good news.”

“
Uh…
yeah!
”
I exclaimed and he set me on my feet but didn’t release me, just
bent his neck deep so his face could remain close (ish) and his
eyes could hold mine. “I just got the call. No way did I expect
that he’d hire me because I’m not really local…
yet
. But he
did!
He
said I have the flair and comportment, his words, that screamed
‘
Carnal
Spa
’, also his words,
and the minute he saw me he wouldn’t have chosen anyone else. I
start next Tuesday.”

“Happy for you, babe,” he said softly, his
eyes warm, his lips tipped up at the ends.

“
Me too,” I replied. “I mean, it’s ten to
four with half an hour lunch break so it isn’t full-time and it’s
about two cents over minimum wage since I’m a glorified
receptionist but still. He said that he might hire another stylist
and is definitely hiring someone to do facials and with the extra
business they may need another hour or more. Isn’t that
cool?”

He didn’t respond verbally but he did give
me a full grin so I took that as agreement he thought it was
cool.

“Let’s celebrate,” I declared, pressing
closer to him. “Tell me what your favorite meal is and I’ll make it
for dinner tonight. Get a bottle of sparkling wine or
something.”