Winter In August (5 page)

“Again with the prostitute reference. You know how to win a girl over, don’t you? What’s your name? I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s Colt Andrews. I didn’t mean anything with the reference. I’m teasing you,” he smiled. The way the word teasing rolled off his tongue was hot. I pictured him saying “I’m teasing you” while I rode him, reverse cowgirl. I shook the idea out of my mind remembering my promise to myself.

“Well, Colt Andrews, where did you have in mind?” I stood next to him. He towered over me.

A man of few words, he nodded his head towards the door. I followed, which gave me the opportunity to admire his gorgeous tight ass in his worn out jeans. From behind, he was just as breathtaking. His hair skimmed the collar of his coat, he had a walk exuding tenacity, and his ass was, well there were no words.

Once outside, the wind had picked up and the air had turned cooler. I shivered and folded my arms across my chest. I wished I had brought a sweater or a coat.

“There is a quieter place close. You care to walk?”

Colt’s emerald eyes burned through me as I started to give up the idea of not sleeping with someone that night. Why start now? My challenge could wait until, oh I don’t know, never. Colt began to look like a good bet. But, I had to try not to think about it. I promised myself. I could do this.

“Sounds fine.” I crossed my arms trying to keep warm as the air blew through my thin t-shirt.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his gaze was on me as I shivered.

“Somewhat. I’ll warm up once we get walking,” I said. Without hesitation, Colt took off his leather coat and placed it over my shoulders. His cologne was embedded in the leather and along with the heat from his body, it was a nice calming feeling.

“Thank you,” I said, as we continued to walk.

We pushed our way through the busy street to a quiet neighborhood bar I had walked by several times but didn’t have any urge to go inside. The bar was in a simple building with a sign that said “The Mailroom”.

“This is the quiet place?” I asked, looking at Colt.

“You will love this place. I guarantee Marco isn’t in here, and they make great onion rings.” He smiled looking down at me.

“Perfect.” He pulled the door open, and I walked in front of him. There were a few people in the small dimly lit bar and music played old jazz from a vintage jukebox. Vinyl booths lined on one side and a bar set up near the front.

There were hugs, pats on the back, and handshakes to go around as everyone acknowledged Colt. The aroma of hamburgers on a grill filled the air along with the scent of beer. I planted myself on a bar stool and waited for Colt to speak to everyone while I checked my phone. Sven texted me he wasn’t going out. Reggie may need to go the animal emergency room, and he and Tab were staying in for a quiet night. I texted back I was going to go home early, and we would get together another time. Colt walked up to me with our drinks, and we went to the back in a quiet booth with a nicked wooden table.

I spoke first. “You must come in here a lot. You know everyone.”

“This is an investment. I own half this bar along with my buddy, Stan. That’s why everyone was kissing my ass. I don’t come in here too often. I leave that for my assistant.”

“So, you own this, you’re a pilot, a comedian, and Marco’s personal assistant.?”

He gave me a crooked smile and winked at me. “You’re right about the first two. No, I’m not Marco’s assistant. However, if I was I’d say it’s better than being his bed buddy.” He took a sip of his drink without taking his eyes off me. The ferocity of his eyes on me burned right through my clothes.

“That’s not funny,” I smirked at him.

“So, how did you end up with Marco the other night? I don’t see you with a Marco Fitzgerald type.” I blushed when he asked, and I couldn’t help but glance down. I was still asking myself that same question, a week later.

“I honestly don’t know. I wouldn’t have gone home with him if I had been in my right mind. He’s absolutely not my type of anything, except his Maserati. I love Maserati’s, I drank uncontrollably that night, and well, you know, sometimes a girl makes stupid mistakes. I don’t drink like that most of the time. It was a celebration with my girlfriend’s and things got a little out of control. That’s my last time.” I shrugged as I wiped the sweat off my glass.

“How do you feel about Porsches? I have a four-door parked outside. Does that car get you all hot and bothered?” He smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but blush and glance down. The effect this guy had on me was becoming pathetic. He was so at ease with his arm resting on the back of the booth, his big masculine hand holding his drink, and his attention only on me.

“Funny. So, you’re his pilot? How did you luck out there?” I asked.

“It’s a long story.” Colt licked his lips. He leaned in closer to me and folded his hands around his glass.

“I’m more or less the pilot for him and his dad. I own several businesses like this bar, but the one dear to my heart is my private jet rental. Marco’s dad was my first customer. I’ve been flying this kid around since he was sixteen and demanding to go wherever he wanted at any time. His dad was always too busy to care, so he had me take him anywhere. I’ve gotten him out of many incidences that could’ve landed him in jail many times.”

I jumped in. “Yes, like dating a seventeen-year-old when he was what, twenty- three?” I remembered reading that on Page Six. Yet another reason Marco Fitzgerald disgusted me. He was busted for dating a girl he swears told him she was twenty-three when she was seventeen. He was arrested and had to go to court. The whole case was thrown out when his dad paid off the girl’s parents.

“His dad has me at his son’s beckoned call, and think I have no one else to worry about but them. Marco’s dad is friends with my dad, and one thing led to another and I became their personal pilot. He had gone through all of them in New York City before he met me. No one wants the responsibility of being at his beckon call around the clock. It’s a hell of a job, flying his ass around all the time, but being his personal pilot pays extremely well. Last year I was gone more than I was home and trying to run a business became difficult. I used to be on call twenty-four hours a day. They had no regard I had other clients or was trying to get a business off the ground. He’d get fucked up at two in the morning call his dad and his dad would call me and say “Take him where ever he wants to go.” Colt spoke in an accent imitating Marco’s dad and threw up his hands. “Believe me, being associated with Marco isn’t by choice.”

“Wow, a pilot. I hate flying. Have you ever almost crashed?” That could be how he earned the scar above his eye. I couldn’t understand how anyone wanted to be a stewardess or a pilot. To me, any aviation career had to be the worst job in the world.

“Once. I earned my license and was up with an instructor. He became sick, I had to take over, and I was thrilled and terrified. At one point I questioned whether I could land the plane right side up, other than that, nothing major. I flew for one of the big airlines for a couple of years, and I made good investments and started my own company. After high school, I had wanted to join the Air Force, but I was destined for a life in politics. I wasn’t supposed to be one of those boys. My parent’s said enlisting was for poor kids wanting a better life without going to college. I had to go to an Ivy League school and became a pilot after I finished law school.”

I looked away from him, my body turned to ice.

“Did I say something wrong, Melinda?" He looked concerned about what he said.

“No, no it’s fine.” I continued to look away.

“No, I said something to upset you. What did I say?” He appeared genuinely concerned about what he said to me.

My gaze met his head on and I swallowed hard. Before I could speak a waitress came over to see if we would like anything else. I shook my head no. I needed to get out of there, but yet, I enjoyed his company.

“I lost someone I loved in the Middle East. He enlisted in the Marines as one of those poor boys needing to have a better life. He was in Afghanistan for a month, and he died by a roadside bomb instantly.”

He closed his eyes and hung his head. “I’m so sorry. Please accept my apology.” He looked back at me with concern in his eyes.

“When did this happen?” he continued.

“Five years ago.” I grew distant missing him and, remembering the anniversary was coming up.

“I didn’t mean to bring up something so upsetting.” He reached across the table and closed his hand over mine for a second. I kept myself from flinching.

“It’s fine. Tell me how come you fly planes?” I changed the subject before I became too emotional thinking of Kris.

“It’s the greatest feeling in the world.” His face brightened and a smile spread across his lips. “To have that power and freedom of maneuvering an aircraft in the sky is something I can’t explain. To pull the plane off the ground and land perfectly is amazing to me every time. I enjoy being up there in the sky and in such vastness and peacefulness.

“How did you become a pilot and why did you did you go to law school?”

“I majored in law in college. My father was on the administrative staff for President Clinton. I was being groomed to go into politics, which was fine, but not my passion. I passed the bar and had an internship at the Capital, but being in a cockpit was my dream. Ever since I was a small boy, being a pilot is what I’ve dreamed of. My parents always discouraged my love of flying and encouraged politics. I did what my parents wanted and enrolled in flight school. After making some very wise investments Andrews Aviation was my new business. Let me ask you a question now. Do you always end up in strange guy’s apartments?” His gaze was direct and matter of fact.

I nervously stirred the ice cubes left in my glass. “Sometimes, but usually, I’m more selective, even in a drunken stupor.”

“I see. So you favor one-night stands with strange men and leave them in the morning feeling bad about what you had done?” I sat there quiet for a second, stunned by his forwardness.

“I do sometimes. Ever since Kris died, I haven’t wanted to get in any long term relationship with anyone. This is better for me. No strings, no heartache, and no death. I don’t know why. It’s my protection from being hurt. You don’t do the same?”

He shook his head, no. “My last relationship lasted ten years. I have too much at stake to make poor decisions about who I sleep with. For such an attractive woman, it’s sad you think that way,” he said, as he continued to gaze into my eyes. I leaned back in the booth trying to distance myself from him as the anger brewed. I collected my thoughts before I spoke.

“I enjoy living like this,” I said.

“I don’t think you do, Melinda. I don’t see someone as smart and attractive as you doing such foolish things. There has to be some other reason. You haven’t found the right guy.”

I downed the last sip of my whiskey, slammed the glass down, and scooted out of the booth.

“This has been nice. If I wanted a life lesson, I could’ve called my dad. I have to be up early, so I’m heading out. Have a nice evening, Colt,” I said, as I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door.

“Wait!” he yelled.

I kept walking, not looking back, and slammed the door open. Once outside the bar, I forgot I was wearing his leather jacket. Fuck. I had to walk in there and see him again.

As I turned around to head back in, he was walking towards me.

“Melinda, wait.”

“First of all, my name isn’t Melinda. It’s Gabby Barone. I made the name up the other day not wanting Marco or you to know who I was. I don’t have time for this bull shit and being told by someone I barely know the way I live my life is wrong. For your information, I’m twenty-six years old and I can make my own rules. And further…”

He grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed my mouth as I kept talking. He kissed me hard as he pulled me closer to him whispering in my mouth.

“Take me home with you. I’ll do things to you no other man can do or knows how to do.” Shit. He kissed me forcefully. This time, my legs almost buckled. I pulled away reluctantly.

“I’m not interested, and you said you don’t do one night stands,” I said. His mouth was on mine again. This time, he was needier as he bit my lip with a roughness I craved. I slipped my tongue into his mouth as I tried to push him away at the same time. My head was foggy. I wanted to take him home and fuck his brains out. He looked and tasted so damn good. I was aching between my legs, making me unsteady on my feet.

“You’re an exception. You wouldn’t be one night, Gabby. You would be many nights, mornings, and afternoons. Just looking at you drives me out of my mind.”

Okay, that snapped me out of my fog.

“Oh, is that a fact? You think I want more than one night with you?” I asked as he let his hands rest on my waist.

“I know you would. I can do things to you no other man has done. I can rip down your wall and take care of you.”

“I don’t need my wall ripped down or taken care of. Besides, you have no idea what things other men have done to me.”

“Obviously, these things haven’t been amazing, or you wouldn’t have ended up in Marco Fitzgerald’s bed.”

I became lost in those eyes and those perfect full lips. I let the moment take me and almost let my guard down to take him up on his offer. Something about this guy had me captivated. I was suddenly filled with a flourishing desire to take him home. How wonderful a night of unbridled passion with this man would be? He might be different than the rest. The way he took control was more than a turn on. A sense of warmth in his arms and peace overtook me. His eyes comforted and calmed me. His scent was so sensual, so masculine. His body looked like a sexual playground, and I wanted to play. The way he talked and bit my lip was something I craved. I hadn’t been so turned on by a man since Kris. I wouldn’t let myself down. I had to do this. I had to prove to myself I could walk away.