Naked Choke (5 page)

***

An hour later, I was climbing the front steps of my row house when my neighbor, Simon, popped his head out his door. “How was it?”

Simon was a few years younger than me, an architect and gay. We’d hit it off since the day he moved in three years ago. He was from Tennessee and his accent was thick like syrup. He was tall and lanky, with blond hair cut in a very crisp, very conservative cut; short on the sides and longer on the top. He wore chunky glasses and very stylish clothes. Although I’d picked my own dress for the party last night, he’d forced me back into my closet and into the heeled sandals instead of the ballet flats I’d originally chosen. He was bossy, opinionated and had a sense for fashion I never would. He’d also been a great guy role model for Chris when his father had pretty much abandoned him, and had a surprising knack for getting through to a cranky teenager in ways a mother never could.

“It was good.” I took off my work clogs and dropped them in the vintage metal milk container outside the front door. The sun was intense and I was sweaty and ready for another shower. Even though I’d had one after my workout, I always took one after being at work or the clinic to rinse off whatever funk I carried home with me. “Christy rocked her dress.”

We stood ten feet apart, each on the short set of steps up to our front doors. The entire block was one long row of houses connected, all red brick with white stone steps.

Simon was casual in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeve button-down shirt. “Of course she did. How did the shoes work out?”

He had to gloat. I had to roll my eyes.

“I hooked an auditor named Bob or Bill.”

“Which was it?” Looking downright gleeful, he added, “Was he any good?”

I tilted my head down and gave him the stern look I used on Chris when he was a pain-in-the-ass teenager. “Any good? I didn’t catch his name and there was no way I’d sleep with that guy. He was…dry and was a little obsessed with oysters.”

Simon cringed. “Yeah, no good. You’re too normal. You need someone who’s different. Who catches you by surprise. Someone you wouldn’t expect.”

“Me, normal?” I asked, faking insult. I knew what he meant. I was plain old Emory. I worked, I worked out. I volunteered. And up until a few months ago, I was a high school parent. I was…dull. I needed some excitement and Bob/Bill wasn’t going to cut it. But Gray just might. Just thinking about him was giving me a hot flash. I could only imagine what would happen to me if he actually touched me. Or kissed me. Or got me beneath him.

Did I want to continue just to be
normal
? I wanted to feel like I had last night. Again and again.
That
was not normal. Gray had invited me to the game. He wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t meant it. So what was stopping me? My embarrassment from last night? Fear? Nerves?

Simon gave a little wave and started to go back inside. I called to him. “Yeah?” he asked.

I fiddled with the strap on my bag as I considered. Screw it. Screw
normal.
I was going to go see Gray. “Will you go with me to Rifkin Park tomorrow to watch a rugby game?”

I’d definitely confused him. “Explain.” He gave the circular hand gesture to keep going.

I ran my toe over the worn stone tread hot beneath my feet from the sun. “There was this other guy last night. I made a complete fool of myself.” I shook my head at my own stupidity. “Not going to say what I did. You can probably imagine.”

He looked at me for a moment, his expression serious. He must have seen something different in me because he didn’t poke fun as he normally would. “Yeah, okay. I won’t ask.”

“He asked me to come watch him play a game tomorrow at eleven. I want to go, but I’m nervous to go by myself.
He
makes me nervous.”

“This is so seventh grade.” A big grin split Simon’s face. “A guy that makes you nervous? I’m in. I’ll totally be your wingman.”

He gave a little wave and went inside. As I was about to do the same, I heard crying. Little kid crying. Turning around, I saw a boy of about eight or nine walking his bike down the street. He was sniffling and wiping his face with the back of his hand. He wore shorts and T-shirt, sneakers. I could see his knees were bloodied and he’d scraped an elbow.

I dropped my bag and as he continued down the sidewalk, about to pass my steps, I went down to him. “Looks like you’ve had a serious fall. Were you trying to be Evil Knievel?”

He stopped and looked up at me, all sweaty and tear stained. I stood beside him and did a quick assessment. Nothing looked broken, it didn’t look like he hit his head. Just a typical bike spill.

His face scrunched up in confusion. “Who’s that?”

“He was a man from when I was a kid who would jump across rows of cars on his motorcycle. I think he even jumped across the Grand Canyon once.”

He had black hair that curled, but was damp with sweat. His eyes were dark and had a Mediterranean look about him. Italian perhaps. “Nah, I just got my wheel caught in a storm drain.”

I nodded, understanding. Those old grates were the perfect width to catch tires if you rode over them the wrong way. It was easy to do.

“You don’t live nearby, do you?” I asked.

He tilted his head. “A few streets over. Why?”

“Well, I think I’d have seen you before if you did. I’m Emory.”

“Marco. Marco Casale.”

“Hi, Marco. How about a few Band-Aids for the road? I know it always made my son feel better.”

“You have a son? Can he play?”

I smiled indulgently at him. Sounded like he was a little lonely. “Well, he’s not a kid anymore. He’s away at college. But I bet he’d like to meet you when he comes home. So, Band-Aids?”

“Okay.”

“Tell you what. Lean your bike against the steps and have a seat. I’ll go get them and come back out.”

By the time I’d gotten the Band-Aids and a glass of water, he was sitting with his knees tucked up, but his tears had dried up.

“I thought you might be thirsty.” I handed him the water.

“Thanks.” He took the plastic cup and drank half the water, handed it back.

“Do you want to put the Band-Aids on yourself or do you want me to do it?” I knew boys pretty well. They had their own little egos and pride just like the bigger versions. I had to be careful not to mother him too much. Or at least let him think he wasn’t being mothered. “Just so you know, I’m a nurse and work at the emergency room, so I see cuts like these all the time. I probably won’t throw up.”

His face crinkled again. “Gross. You won’t throw up ’cause you’re a mom.”

I nodded. “Especially because I’m a mom.”

“Then you can do them.”

“Okay, but this first part might sting a little.” I used a wet paper towel to dab at the cuts, then covered one scrape after another, making sure no blood or sore spot was exposed, just as Chris used to want. He flinched at first, but Marco acted very brave.

“Do you want to call your mom or dad to come pick you up?”

“I live with my uncle and grandfather. But no. I can ride home now.”

“Is your front tire damaged?”

He shook his head, dark curls bouncing. “Thank you for the Band-Aids, Miss Emory.”

“You’re welcome, Marco.”

He gave me an awkward side hug, then dashed down the steps to his bike.

“Marco,” I called out.

He looked up at me, all chubby cheeked and happy once again. I’d forgotten that Chris was ever his size.

I held up one finger. “Can you wait just a minute? I have something for you. For riding your bike.”

“Sure.”

I ran inside and to the back porch and dug into the basket filled with a variety of sports equipment.

“Here,” I said to Marco as I went down the front steps. I handed him a bike helmet. “This belonged to my son, but his head’s too big for it now. It’s really important you wear a helmet when you ride a bike. Okay?”

He looked at the blue helmet with a Maryland flag sticker on the side of it. “Wow, cool! Thanks.”

I helped him adjust the straps so it fit him. It was a little big, but it was better than nothing, and he’d quickly grow into it. “There. If you ever get into trouble again, you can always knock on my door. You can remember it because the door’s red. Okay?” Since the block had about twenty turn-of-the-century houses connected—row houses as they were called in Baltimore—and all were identical brick and white trim, I had to use the colored door as a way to indicate to people which house was mine.

He gave me a big grin, a tooth missing on the bottom. “Thanks, Miss Emory!”

I watched him ride off and around the corner, wounds forgotten.

CHAPTER FOUR

EMORY

Simon and I showed up at the park a little before noon. I didn’t want to seem too eager and I had to do some serious psyching up at home to actually go. Committing Simon yesterday had been a smart move; I hadn’t been able to back out. There was no way he was going to miss seeing the guy who’d gotten me all flustered. When we’d met on the sidewalk out front, Simon had given me a once over as usual.

I looked down at myself. Because it was hot, I wore black shorts and a racer-back tank top that was black-and-white stripe on the front and red on the back. A pedicure had been my Saturday night excitement, but at least my toes looked good in my flip-flops. I’d pulled my hair back into a ponytail, the shorter curls framing my face. I wore sunglasses and a thick layer of sunscreen. “It’s a rugby game in a park. I can dress myself for that.”

The slight grumbling tone made Simon’s eyebrows go up, but he didn’t push. I could only assume he could tell how out of sorts I was and didn’t want to either make me run back inside and lock the door or start to cry. Not that I had plans for either, but he didn’t know that.

When we got to the park, guys were out on the field running around with a big white ball, tackling and crushing each other like in football, but without any pads or helmets. Since I didn’t know the rules and there was no scoreboard or time clock, it looked like a complete free-for-all to me. There were about twenty other spectators along the sidelines, some in folding chairs, others on blankets. Kids ran around, chasing each other, and babies took naps in their strollers, worn out from the heat.

I spread out a blanket as Simon put down the small cooler, then we settled in to watch. He handed me a soda as I sat cross-legged.

“Which one is he?” He popped the lid on his drink.

One team wore black-and-white striped T-shirts like a bunch of convicts, the other wore dark green ones with a yellow collar. As I scanned the men, I realized Faith would have enjoyed this. Watching sweaty, fit men run around and tackle each other, showing off their caveman qualities would spike any woman’s libido. When I finally glimpsed Gray on the field, my heart stuttered. The other night wasn’t a fluke. He
did
something to me. This guy, why this guy? Was I insane? There was one way to find out.

“There.” I pointed.

“The blond?”

I shook my head, took a sip of soda to cool myself down. Gray looked…God, amazing. Manly. He was wearing one of the ridiculous convict shirts, the neckline stretched out by someone’s rough grab. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he had a streak of dirt on his arm that blended in with the tattoo. With his arm exposed, I could see it was large enough to creep up his forearm and over his biceps. Although he was dark complected and tan, it stood out in stark contrast. I hadn’t been wild about tattoos in general before, but on Gray…it totally melted my butter. I had to wonder if he had any others, and if so, where?

“No, the one with the dark close-cropped hair.”

Simon looked where I pointed, his brows going up. “Holy shit, Em. That’s the guy?”

I nodded.

“I can see why he made you nervous. He’s fucking hot and nothing like a guy you’d normally be interested in.”

There was that word again. Normal.

“I know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what it is about him.” I turned to Simon, hoping he’d truly understand, because I sure didn’t. “I mean, he’s got tattoos! But when I saw him Friday night my heart stopped and my brain went to mush. I swear I had a hot flash.”

He looked at me over the top of his sunglasses, serious. “Maybe he’s the kind of guy you need and just never knew.”

We sat in silence, watching the game. Had I been interested in all the wrong guys? It wasn't like I had much chance to find out. Being pregnant at nineteen, married and with a baby at twenty didn’t offer much opportunity to play the field. Of course, Jack had decided he’d wanted
more
and ditched me for a newer model a few years ago. Maybe a guy like Gray was exactly what I needed. He wasn't
normal.
He sure as hell would push my boundaries.

I watched his body as he played the game and tried not to drool. Muscles tightened and flexed in ways that had me taking a big swig of my soda just to cool off. What would it be like to kiss him, to run my hands over that body, to have his weight pin me up against the wall? Those thoughts made those butterflies return and scared the crap out of me at the same time.

I hadn’t even realized there was a ref until he blew the whistle. I obviously wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to the game. The men worked their way to the sidelines, exhausted and sweating, slapping each other on the back or giving a man hug. I couldn’t tell by the looks on their faces who’d won or lost. The camaraderie was surprising, considering they’d just been tackling the crap out of each other.

Gray was drinking from a water bottle when he saw me. His eyes narrowed and I felt once again frozen in place as if he had a freeze ray stare. He swallowed, wiped his chin with the back of his hand and smiled. With a little bob of his head as hello, he held up one finger. He didn’t look away until I nodded back.

“Jesus, Em,” Simon whispered.

While Gray talked with other players, Simon leaned in and said, “You can bring me to watch anytime.” I glanced up and he waggled his eyebrows. I grinned. Not having a boyfriend at the moment, Simon was no doubt checking out the possibilities, but I was only interested in Gray.

A minute later, Gray walked over to us, a teammate with him. Although he'd looked pretty darn fine the other night in a suit and tie, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, sweaty and dirty, Gray looked downright sexy. Rugged and manly.
This
was his element. His chest and shoulders were clearly delineated, his biceps thick and powerful, his thighs and calves well defined. Everything about him was powerful, and the way he watched me now was seriously intense. I licked my lips and saw his eyes drop to follow the action.