The First Law of Love (31 page)

“I'm
fine
,” I insisted, moving away from him. I stumbled a little in my ridiculous heels, the ones I'd worn to get his attention in the first place, and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the curb and kicking out of my sandals. Case made a sound of alarm and immediately crouched near my right hip.

“Holy shit, I thought you were falling,” he said, one hand hovering as though to touch me before he drew it back and braced his forearms on his thighs.

“Falling,” I repeated, catching up the shoes by their heel straps. He was only a foot and a half away, still wearing his cowboy hat, and before I knew what I had done I flung the sandals behind me and then caught his wrists in both hands. I had been aiming for his shirt, intending to clutch a fistful and yank him to me, but I miscalculated. He was solid and warm against my palms, the hair on the backs of his wrists soft and immediate against my skin. I stroked my fingers over him, need pulsing along my nerves so intensely that I was certain it was visible, the way static electricity glinted blue-white along the edges of blankets in the winter.

He made an inadvertent sound in his throat, rocking backward as though to free himself from my grip. Barefoot, I rolled to my knees and my arms went around his neck; probably to keep me from falling, still in a crouch, he caught me about the waist. Immediately I pressed my breasts closer to him, the grass damp beneath my bare knees, and my forehead bumped his hat brim. I knocked the hat from his head and tried to move closer but he stood up abruptly, drawing me with, preventing my forward motion with an iron grip around my waist.

I was breathing hard, my heart splattering against my ribs. When I reached for him again, he caught my wrists in his hands.

“Tish,” he warned, and his voice sounded harsh. He was breathing hard too, I was pleased to realize, as it meant perhaps I wasn't totally alone in my raging desire. Low and with effort, he ordered, “Stop.”

“No,” I said, breathless and intent on having my way. I struggled against his hold.

“You are drunk,” he said deliberately, as though talking to a slow child.

“So what?” I gasped out, even though I knew he was right.

“So what?” he repeated, and now anger crackled in his voice too. “
So what?
Are you kidding me? What kind of man do you think I am? What do you want, huh? You want me to take you upstairs and fuck you, is that what you want?”

He might as well have shoved a brutal hand against my solar plexus, though I knew he would never consider doing such a thing. That he was basically correct in his assumption made me feel even more like shit; wasn't that exactly what I had been hoping for? And for what? So I wouldn't be lonely for one night? So I could prove something to myself?

“I want…” I whispered, but my throat closed off and I could explain no more. I stopped struggling and two tears streaked my face and dripped from my chin, much to my embarrassment. I could not sink much lower; I was a fucking shallow cock-tease and worse than that, I was a user.

His hands moved swiftly up my arms then and before I could blink he kissed me.

Oh God, oh holy shit
…

His mouth upon mine was more incredible than anything I had ever known. I clutched his shoulders to keep from falling to the earth, tilting my head into his kiss, struggling again to get closer to him. He tasted just slightly of cola, the interior of his mouth sweet and sleek against my tongue, the heat of him pounding into me so that I saw starbursts behind my eyelids.

He kissed me deeply and thoroughly, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth to run his tongue over it, nipping my chin and then kissing my neck, my jaw, until I was trembling as though with a fever. With a deep, throaty groan, he claimed my mouth again and I moaned against his lips, holding nothing back as I kissed him in return. He clutched my hips in his strong hands and drew me firmly against him. I felt, with a burning sort of clarity, that I would die if he stopped.

And then, just like that, he drew back. He was breathing hard and his eyes seemed to flame with a sort of unholy fire that clashed against the one in my own.

“But I won't,” he said, and his deep voice shook on those words.

I couldn't catch my breath; I was so aroused that I felt violent. Violent enough that, were I capable of carrying someone much larger and stronger than myself, I would forcibly haul him upstairs. He let go of my hips but I still clung to him, desire pumping through my blood so that all I could hear was a roaring.

“Case,” I begged, my voice hoarse, catching in my throat. “Oh God, please…”

He broke free and turned from me, cupping his forehead with both hands. He made a deep sound, a low sound of defeat, and I put my palms on his back. He straightened to his full height, instantly displacing my touch, before bending to retrieve his hat. Settling it low over his eyes, he took my right elbow into his hand and ordered in a tone not to be challenged, “Come on.”

I went, so overcome by what had happened between us that I could barely see straight, intense longing for him combining with the thick buzz of the gin. He marched me up the carpeted steps and down the hall, stopping in front of 206.

“Where's your key?” he asked tightly.

“Here,” I whispered, fumbling it from my pocket. I tried and failed to get it in the keyhole, so Case took it from my hands and performed the task for me, his movements abrupt and angry. Peaches leaped into view as the door swung open, meowing and swirling herself around my ankles.

“You shouldn't drink this much,” he said then, his voice low, tense with what I interpreted as controlled anger.

“My shoes,” I said then, grasping at things to keep him here, with me, because I could sense he was going to leave. I turned in the doorway to face him, heat flaring in my cheeks and nipples, all along my body. In the dim lights of the hall he appeared stone-jawed and stern, his eyes burning down into mine. My hair was a tangled wreck, one of my tank top straps falling pitifully over my shoulder. My eyes detoured to his lips, his beautifully-sculpted lips, before flashing back to his eyes.

“I'll get them,” he said. “You need to sleep it off.”

“Sleep it off?” I repeated, stung and wounded almost beyond repair, when he'd kissed me that way and then stopped. I was so angry I wanted to strike him, stunned at myself. I hissed, “Don't bother,” my voice shaking, and then I slammed the door as hard as I could in his face.

Immediately I leaned backward against it, burying my face in my palms and listening intently, but I could not tell if he remained standing there or had walked away, as the stupid carpet muffled those sorts of sounds. I waited there, unmoving, for no more than a minute, sure that he was still just outside the door. But then I heard his truck being put into gear and my heart lurched as I jolted forward, tripped over Peaches, and went to my knees. I righted myself and managed to make it to the kitchen window just in time to see his taillights as they signaled to turn out of the parking lot.

And then I went to my knees of my own accord, crying as I had never cried before.

In the late morning I found my shoes waiting side-by-side, just to the left of the door. Case had placed them neatly, taking time to straighten the straps and line them just right, as though with extreme care. I scraped one hand through my hair and regarded them through the headache haze blooming across my vision. After Case drove away last night I had cried until I thought my head might explode, just managing to make it to the toilet in my tiny bathroom before puking up about a bottle's worth of gin.

I woke hours later on the bathroom floor, my left cheek near the base of the sink, Peaches sitting on her haunches and studying me with her unreadable green eyes. I pretended she was worried about me, that at least someone was, before peeling off my bar clothes and crawling into the shower, where I scalded my hair and body for a good fifteen minutes. I emerged feeling slightly more human and brewed a pot of strong coffee (Al had let me take the coffee maker from the office home, insisting he could get us a new one there), which I drank slowly at my kitchen table, staring numbly out the window at the restless, stormy gray sky that perfectly suited my brutal mood.

I thought of things I had learned about Case since I'd lived here in Montana. I repeated his full name to myself, again and again.

Charles Shea Spicer
.

My heart clenched up as I considered what I knew about him, of being left behind to care for his younger brother, their father a drunken wreck who'd thrown them around when his moods were especially black, and I sank even lower into my pit of self-loathing.

How could you treat him that way last night, as though you only want sex from him? How could you act like that, knowing everything he
'
s been through, knowing how he feels about you? You are a selfish bitch.

I closed my eyes and held the mug of coffee just beneath my nose, letting the steam bathe my face. My stomach lurched a little, but I wasn't in danger of vomiting; I had vomited up everything I'd eaten since last weekend already.

Case. How can I tell you that I
'
m sorry?

How can I make this right?

I let the coffee mug sink to the table, and then tipped my face to my bent arms, what I wanted right now all tangled up with what I wanted my future to hold. My future goals, namely living in Chicago as a successful lawyer. What I had been working towards for the last seven and a half fucking years.

Case will never leave Jalesville.

He lives in a trailer.

He has a past.

I lifted my head and cupped my temples in both hands, studying the wood grain on the table just a few inches from my nose. I thought of watching him sing last night, all of the nights I had listened to his gorgeous voice, had studied his hands as they called forth music from his guitar, his fiddle, made them sing joyously or mournfully, depending on the mood of the song. I imagined Case singing a song for me at our wedding, the way Mathias sang for my sister. I let myself imagine having his babies, setting aside my career so that I could be a mother and a wife.

Oh God, I
'
m so scared.

I can
'
t think about these things. I have good, solid job prospects in Chicago, a start at a stellar career. I have to go back to that. To consider anything else is completely unthinkable.

But the alternative stared me in the face and I could not look away. To leave meant I would be without Case for the rest of my life. Tears burst from my eyes and I sobbed again, even as sharp pain made my head seem capable of splitting along the hairline. When my phone buzzed, signaling an incoming call, I felt stabbed in the heart, turning blindly towards the counter and catching it into my hands. Disappointment pressed a heavy hand against my lungs as I saw that it was Robbie.

I pressed the ‘decline' icon, letting it go straight to voicemail. Almost before I had set the phone on the table there was a knock on the door and I leaped as though I had just stepped into a pile of embers. Peaches meowed and rubbed against my calves as I stared at the door with my heart zinging. What were the odds that Case would be there when I opened it?

Oh God
…

I called faintly, “I'm coming!”

But the open door exposed Robbie, in khaki shorts and a green polo shirt, who lifted both palms and asked, “What in the hell?”

I stared blankly at him, annoyed and crushingly let down. Of course it wasn't Case. What had I been thinking?

“I got to town last night,” he explained. “Thanks for fucking caring. I ended up hanging out with Al. Nice guy. I can see why you like him.” He looked a little more closely at me and asked lightly, “Rough night, Patricia?”

I rolled my eyes, restraining the urge to just shut the door. I said, “Welcome to Jalesville.” And then, knowing I needed to go get the Honda, I asked pathetically, “Will you drive me to where I left my car last night?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling just a little at my tone. “You're adorable when you're pitiful, you know that?”

“Give me a sec,” I said, opening the door all the way and ignoring his teasing. Robbie helped himself to a cup of coffee and took a seat at my table as I disappeared into the bathroom. There I studied myself critically in the small mirror, taking into account the purple-blue smudges beneath my red-rimmed eyes.
Rough night, indeed
. I brushed my hair with a little more force than required, smoothed on my favorite raspberry-tinted lip gloss and then called it good enough. I had just clicked out the bathroom light when someone knocked on my door for the second time in ten minutes.

It
'
s him.

This time I knew with absolute certainty and my heart smashed against my ribs as though having jumped from the top of a building, just in time to hear Robbie get up to do the honors for me. There was a moment of crackling-tense silence and I rounded the corner into the kitchen to hear Case's deep voice say, “I don't fucking believe this.”

“Excuse me?” Robbie asked, sounding truly mystified, but I raced around him, barefoot, in pursuit of Case, who was already back down the steps and shoving out the front doors in the entryway. My hair streamed behind me as I chased him outside, where the low gray sky had begun spitting rain.

“Case!” I screamed, breathless, running onto the gravel without thinking, and a sharp edge cut into the tender center of my right foot. I made an inadvertent sound of pain, stumbling a little, and at this he turned around, however unwittingly. Even with the distance between us I could feel the angry heat from his eyes. I was not about to let him go thinking what he did: that Robbie had spent the night here with me.

I hurried to him and then faltered to a halt a few feet away; his truck was parked in almost the same spot as last night, though he had killed the engine this time. Rain struck the ground with intermittent drops, spattering over my threadbare gray t-shirt and sending the scent of dust into the humid air. Echoing his expression, thunder growled just above our heads with the threat of something far more dangerous to follow.

“Wait,” I implored, out of breath, staring greedily at him. He was hatless, his red-gold hair bright even in the dimness of the gloomy day. His eyes drove into mine, darkly intense and furious; his shoulders were taut with tension.

Before I could say another word he asked venomously, “Did you wait until I was out of the parking lot last night before you called him? Who the fuck is that, anyway?”

“It's not like that,” I said desperately, wanting so badly to move close enough to touch him. I thought of how he'd kissed me last night and could hardly breathe with wanting more of the same. More, and then only more of him.

“Then how is it?” he asked, jerking both hands through his hair. “I guess it's good to know the truth. Fuck, I was coming here to
apologize
.”

“He just got here from Chicago!” I said, angry tears glittering in my eyes, obscuring my vision along with the sharp little rain drops that seemed to hurl out of the sky. I hurried to explain, “He's here to housesit for Ron. I went to school with him.”

“Then why is he
here?
” he demanded.

“I told you, he just got to town!” I yelled at him, furious and teary-eyed, all at once. “He's taking me to get my stupid car!”

“I told you
I
would take you to get it today!” Case raged back, taking one step closer to me, almost as though against his will.

“How was I supposed to know that you were going to come back? You left without one word! Without even saying good-bye!” My heart was pumping furious blood through my veins and I could feel heat flushing across my entire face. My hands were such tight fists that my fingernails scraped my palms.

“You slammed the door in my face!” he yelled. He had me there.

I wanted to scream,
You rejected me!

But I was too proud. Instead I shouted back, “You left!”

He lowered his voice to say cruelly, “So you needed to get laid so bad you didn't care who it was, is that right?”

I slapped his left cheek hard enough that it hurt my palm and he caught my wrist in a deathly grip, clearly reading in my eyes that I intended to strike again. He brought me right up against his chest and then the heat in my veins flamed instantly to desire. I tugged fiercely at my wrist, held prisoner in his unforgiving fingers. His other arm secured me around the waist and he looked as tortured as I felt.

“Let me go,” I choked out, even though it was the last thing I wanted, as rain spattered our heads and tears splashed down towards my chin. My left hand was trapped between us and my gaze jolted between his eyes and his lips.

“Damn you,” he said then, through nearly-clenched teeth, releasing me as abruptly as he'd caught me close.

I shoved his powerful chest with both hands, furious and unfulfilled, needing something from him that I couldn't even begin to explain. He held his ground and his shoulders rose and fell with his breathing.

“Fuck you,” I said then, my voice shaking, and turned away only to see Robbie standing on the sidewalk observing everything with an expression of complete stun. Behind me I heard Case slam into his truck; I spun back around as he drove out of the parking lot in a spray of gravel and screamed after him, “
See if I care!
”

Robbie jogged to my side and asked, “Are we in a reality show or something? What is going on?”

I pressed both hands to my belly, still intently watching Case's truck as he barreled down the road, hearing the roar of his engine as though it was insulting me as well. When I could no longer see his vehicle, I managed to draw enough of a breath to respond. I said, “He thinks we…you and I, that is…spent the night together.”

Robbie chuckled and said, “I wish that was true. Jesus Christ, Tish, your dad would kill me.”

I angled a fraction of my fury at him and he held up both hands at once.

“Let's get out of this rain! Come on,” he said. “You need to get back to Chicago, baby girl. This shitty little po-dunk town is messing with your mind.”

“I like it here,” I said and Robbie snorted derisively.

“Now I know I really need to get you out of here,” he said, catching my elbow into his hand and dragging me after him. Back inside my apartment he seated me at the table, flipped on the kitchen light and poured a fresh cup of coffee. I swept my damp hair over one shoulder and sipped cautiously.

Robbie sat opposite me, folded his hands and then asked in his best attorney-at-law tone, “Now, please inform counsel why in the fuck you just struck a resident of this town, less than five minutes ago.”

“Is ‘fuck' a legal term?” I asked, curling my right hand around the warmth of the mug.

“In this case, possibly so,” he said, lowering his eyebrows wickedly at me. He went on, “Ms. Gordon, I assure you that we will examine all possible angles and…positions here.”

“Oh my God, I don't need this right now,” I said, tears blurring my vision yet again.

“Have you been seeing him? Fraternizing with the locals? Patricia,” he scolded, teasingly slapping the back of my free hand. He went on, only half-kidding, I knew, “I don't even know if they're fully housebroken.”

“Don't say that,” I flared at him, and my anger mildly shocked him, I could tell, though he didn't let it show.

He sat back and shook his head, saying, “Oh Christ. Don't go falling for some local guy. You have way more sense than that. I hope.”

“
Get out
,” I said through clenched teeth, and then pointed at the door in case there was even a kernel of doubt in his mind about what I meant. I added, “I am
not in the mood
for you right now.”

Robbie gave me a long-suffering look and insisted with zero sympathy, “Chicago. You've had too big a dose of reality here in…where in the hell are we, anyway?”

I was about to chuck my coffee at him and he saw this in my eyes, as he instantly retreated. At the door he said, “What about your car? And how am I supposed to entertain myself this week? Shit, don't forget about Al's birthday party next weekend. He invited me, but fuck if I'm going to it alone.”

“I'll go get my car later. And I haven't forgotten the party,” I told him, rubbing the base of one palm against my aching forehead. “God, just get out.”

Robbie was laughing as he shut the door behind him.

My foot hurt as I stood to dump out the rest of my coffee and I bent down, hooking my ankle against the opposite knee to examine the damage. A piece of gravel was wedged into the flesh just above my heel; angry adrenaline must have kept me from feeling it until just now. I hobbled over to the bathroom and sat on the closed toilet seat to dig out the tiny rock, more tears falling at this simple task, further infuriating me.