A Jar of Dreams Page 10

  She rose up and steadily made her way downstairs and to the kitchen. She couldn’t hide forever in her room. She had to eat. For godsakes, this was her house. Why in the world was she hiding?

  She grumbled to herself as she made herself a cup of coffee. Clearly, the man wasn’t in the house. He had already left to get on with his life. He wasn’t going to spend the entire day with her as he did yesterday. “You are an idiot. You are such an idiot.”

  “Excuse me?” he asked from behind.

  She sprung out of her stool, tripping on one of the leg braces as she did. She cried out, covering her face on an impulse. But she felt his hand grasp her arm, pulling her quickly into him. She slammed against his chest, her body leaning into his.

  His hand caressed her head. “Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

  She reddened with embarrassment, her palm flat against his sweaty chest as she tried to brace herself. “I,um,… yes.” He had been exercising, she realized. That was where he had been all morning.

  She could feel his breath upon her. She had thought he would let her go now, but he held her there steadily against himself, his palms now cupping her jaw.

  “You sure?” His voice was husky, his thumbs fondling her jawline.

  “Yes.” She could barely utter her words. His touch did something to her body, heating it up, raising her heartbeat. She became aware of the aching throb in her sex. What is he doing to me? She licked her suddenly drying out lips. I have to get away from him. Or he’ll find out. He’ll know how I’m feeling about him. She trembled as she stepped away from him. “I’m fine, Eric.”

  He didn’t want to let her go. Her skin felt soft and silky beneath his fingers. Her body molded perfectly with his. He brushed her fringes to tuck them behind her ears and it was then he noticed the cut near her temples.

  “You clipped the side of your head against the kitchen bench,” he said, leaning closer to study it.

  “Did I?” she asked with surprise. She moved to touch it but he stopped her immediately.

  “Don’t touch it. I need to wash the blood off it. I hope it isn’t too deep,” he said, unable to mask the concern in his voice. He must have grown slow over the past days. How could he have not pulled her out of her fall faster?

  “It isn’t. I would have felt it if it was bad,” she muttered shyly.

  He pulled a handful of tissues from the tissue box and held it against the wound. “Press,” he ordered, picking her hand to replace his.

  “Eric, you don’t need to do this,” she protested. “It’s only a tiny wound.”

  “Let me be the judge of that. If it needs stitching, I’m taking you to a hospital.”

  “I won’t need stitches. What… what are you doing?” she asked with bafflement when he swung one of the cupboard doors hard.

  “I’m getting your first aid kit.”

  “It’s in the-”

  “I know where it is,” he said, slamming the box on the table.

  “How do you…?” She lowered her hand and he immediately snapped it up again and placed it back on her wound. “Are you angry with me?”

  He turned around to turn the faucet on, filling a bowl with warm water. “No. I’m angry with me.”

  “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. It was I who was clumsy. I shouldn’t have jumped at you. I should have known you were… it was… it was… what are you doing now?”

  He moved her hands and brushed her hair aside to study the wound again. It probably wasn’t too bad. He shook his head. He must improve his game. If he hadn’t become slow, she wouldn’t have got hurt. Just seeing her hurt, her blood and the rawness of her gash, made his stomach churn.

  He dipped a ball of cotton wool into the water and began washing the wound. “You should have known nothing. I shouldn’t have scared you. I should have let you know I was behind you.” She winced and he frowned. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” She bit her lower lip. “Really, Eric, you don’t have to do this.”

  “Shhh,” he said as he picked out a band-aid. “It’s done.” He pressed it on her wound and then sat back to look at his handiwork.

  “So, am I gonna live?” She grinned.

  He smiled. He took her head in both hands and kissed the band-aid lightly. “I believe you will.”

  She sat riveted to her chair. Her body was tensed and cold.

  “Anne?” he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Why did you do that?” Her voice was icy and shaking.

  “Do what? Clean your gash?”

  “No! That thing… you did… in the end!” She moved her hands around in the air wildly.

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “The kiss! What else?!”

  “The kiss?” He combed his hair with his fingers in frustration. Did he really just do that? He had thought it in his head but he had never intended to do it.

  “Do you think I’m easy?” she roared at him. “You think I’m blind, so you think you can take advantage of me.”

  “No-!”

  “You can’t do that! I’m not okay with that! It’s not okay!” She shot out of her stool and stumbled towards the door.

  He went after her, grabbing her arm. “Anne…”

  “Don’t touch me!” She swung her hand at him and struck him on his face. She froze, her body trembling from the shock of her strike. Her tears streamed out of her eyes and down her face. “Don’t… touch…me,” she whispered.

  Her slap had barely stung him. Besides, it wasn’t that he was worried about. He had crossed his boundaries. He should never have kissed her like that. What had gotten into him? Could he no longer separate fact from fiction? Was he beginning to believe his own dreams? Did he really think they were living together- a husband and a wife, a man and his lover?

  “I won’t touch you, only if you promise not to run.”

  She huffed with anger and swirled on her feet.

  “Anne!” he shouted, halting her immediately. He walked around her and to her front. “I didn’t mean to insult you. And I wasn’t taking advantage of you. It just happened.”

  “Just happened? You can’t expect me to believe that shit. Do you think I’m so naïve? I thought you were better, Eric. I really did. I don’t think we can continue like this. Not after this. I want you to go. You’ll have to move out.”

  His temples pulsed rapidly, his jaw stiffened. “Because I kissed you. Because I cared.” He swiped his face tiredly with his palm. “Fine. I’ll leave today.”

  He turned and walked out of the kitchen. It probably was for the best. He shouldn’t be living with her anyway. It would put her in danger. He must have lost his mind the moment he had set eyes on her. He wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t doing anything right since he had met her. He needed to get out of here.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she had walked down the hallway to the end of the room. She had never needed to. The windows were always bolted down and the air was always stale. And as time passed on, she would get sick whenever she would take the stroll down the hallway to this room.

  She heard him rustling through the room and then suddenly throw something against the wall. Her legs went limb. He was still angry. She clenched her fingers into a ball and walked through the door.

  He immediately quieted again.

  “Eric?” she asked just to be sure he was still in the room.

  “I’m just packing my stuff and will be out of your hair as soon as I can.”

  She shuffled her feet nervously. “I haven’t been in this room in ages.”

  He didn’t say anything, moving about the room, gathering his stuff.

  “I can already feel the difference in it,” she continued to mutter. “The air in here is so much more refreshing. I can hear the trees from the woods behind the house.”

  He threw something else into his bag and zipped it up. Her heart pounded. Was he really going to go?

  “Did you really mean it when you said you cared?” she
asked quickly.

  He lifted his eyes up at her. Was she serious? He supposed he should admit it since he had already said it. “Yes.”

  “You hardly know me.”

  “I know you enough to care.”

  “Enough to kiss me?”

  “I kissed you on your brow.”

  “On my bandaged wound,” she corrected. “Which can be a tad more intimidating and personal than a kiss on the lips.”

  If she was goading him into an argument, she had certainly won because his eyes were transfixed onto her face and he couldn’t leave anymore like he had wanted to a minute ago. He had to sort out his differences before he left. He couldn’t just exit her house and her life without answering her questions.

  “I don’t know about that. How about I kiss you on the lips just so we can do a proper analysis of your theory?” he said, watching her closely.

  She tilted her head. “Do you always kiss a plastered wound or did I earn a special ticket?”

  She had clearly brushed his snide comment aside and he wished she hadn’t. He’d rather she argue with him than be honestly interested in the reasons as to why he had kissed her.

  He walked over to the window and leaned out of it, desperately in the need for some air.

  “Eric?” she asked quietly. “I just want to know why you did that. I don’t like being played. But I also know I’ve missed out on a lot of normal things like the cultures that exist amongst friends. I don’t want to misunderstand you. Is it common for friends to do that?”

  He pulled in a deep breath. He should just yes and pretend it was. She would then drop the matter and he could continue living with her.

  “No,” he said finally. “No, it isn’t common for friends to kiss on wounds.”

  She shivered slightly. “So… why…?”

  “My mom used to do it to me when I was small,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to know that, but he had to say something.

  “Oh…”

  “You must think me weird now.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m sorry I did that. I shouldn’t have. I got caught in the moment. I saw the bruise and the blood and I reacted. I was afraid I’d lose you too and… and….”

  “Lose me? Eric, it was only a small gash.”

  “I know, I know. I just couldn’t see you in pain. You winced when I touched it and that only made me want to… ” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Yeah, he wanted to hug her like he wanted to do now. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly to himself. To kiss her, to caress her body, to tangle his fingers into her long beautiful curls. He clutched the ledge of the window tightly. But he couldn’t tell her that. She’d only flip out again and probably get a restraining order against him too.

  “Your mom? Where is she?”

  “She died… when I was nine.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes welled as he recalled his mother’s face. He turned back to face the window. She couldn’t see his tears, but he was too self-conscious of his weakness to allow her the chance to might even know it.

  “And your dad?” she asked. “You had him, right?”

  “He passed away four years before my mom.”

  “Eric,” she mumbled with an overwhelming sadness.

  He clasped his nape and pulled in a deep breath. “I should go now.”

  “Do I remind you of your mom? Is that why you said you cared?”

  He smiled. “Well, you both are the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  She smiled and reached out for him. He grasped her arms, puzzled as to what she was doing. She wound her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. He clutched her shoulders, wondering what he should do.

  “Anne?”

  “It’s okay. You can hug me,” she whispered.

  He slid his hands slowly down her back, burying his face into her hair. He closed his eyes, resting against her, his anxiety of ever losing her suddenly diminishing into the dark once again. She was here with him now. She was safe.

  “We’re friends,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The restaurant buzzed with the low voices of its rich dinner patrons. Waiters darted about, adhering to every call.

  His phone rang, interrupting the conversation at the table. Kurt instinctively reached for his phone in the jacket.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologized to his overly cheerful companions.

  “You’re not going to take that now, are you?” his wife, Phyllis whispered between clenched teeth.

  “I’ll just see if it is important.”

  “Oh, let the man take his call,” the middle-aged woman opposite her said, waving her long red manicured finger nails. She wore a red lipstick to match them and a strapless black dress that filled tightly at her bosoms. “Isn’t that the reason we married such suavity?” She brushed seductively against her husband. “If they don’t take calls, they don’t achieve. And achievement gives us wives whatever we want.”

  “It’s not all that simple, Laura.” Her husband grinned. “You’ve gotta do your bit too, working hard, pulling late night shifts. Are you up for one tonight?”

  “Order us more oysters and I’ll think about it,” she teased.

  “Fine,” he conceded. “But I want to see you swallowing every one of those little bastards.”

  “Those little bastards are meant for you, baby,” she snickered.

  “Damn, woman. I should get on with the order then.” He chuckled. “But right after I visit the loo. Why don’t you take that call then, Kurt? It looks like whoever it is won’t leave you alone tonight.”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled, frowning at the Caller ID.

  “Ryan, get on with it, will you?” Laura huffed.

  Her husband slapped Kurt on the arm and headed towards the bathroom. Kurt left the women and stepped outside the restaurant, looking for a more secluded spot. He found one around the corner, in a dark alley.

  “What is it?” he barked into the phone.

  “We’ve tracked him,” the man said on the other side.

  “Then why are you fucking telling me?” he minced between his teeth. “Shouldn’t you be finding him and slicing his neck or something?”

  “He’s in Boston.”

  Color drained from his face. What was he doing in Boston? Did he know? His lips dried and his eyelids twitched.

  “Find him.” His voice was unusually steady. “And Ivan,” he added icily. “Don’t ever call me again on this number.”

  He switched his phone off and stared at it with incensed rage. He wanted to bang his head against the wall, and beat the fuck out of the first person he met. The guy was a frickin’ amateur hit-man. He thought he had hired professionals to get him. And they missed! They fucking missed! Unbelievable!

  “Kurt?” a voice broke into the mayhem of his thoughts.

  “Laura?”

  “What are you doing? We’re all waiting for you back at the restaurant.” She chuckled. “I tell you, your wife is pissed as hell.”

  “Is she?” he retorted. Phyllis should be pissed. She didn’t do much but fuck and piss. He was the one that brought the dough home. He worked his ass off to build the company and whereas the bitch? Well, she screwed every cock in town- except his.

  “Kurt?” Laura peered at him through the darkness.

  He smirked. He grabbed her hand and pushed her against the wall.

  “Do you like to fuck?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Kurt?” she said shakily. “What are you doing?”

  “Answer the question,” he whispered roughly against her face. “You like to fuck? I know you do. I see the way you keep staring at me.”

  “Kurt, please,” she begged.

  “You like it when I squeeze your large boobs like this, huh?” He tugged down her top, popping out her breast. He grabbed her tits with his mouth and began sucking onto it.

  “Kurt, don’t,” she pleaded, grabbing a tuft of his hair. �
�We can’t do this.”

  He pulled up her dress and shoved his fingers into her pussy. Wet. Yeah, she wanted him, just like every other bitch he had banged.

  “Kurt…,” she protested.

  He swirled her around, pulling her hips out, perking her buttocks into the air. He unzipped his pants with shaky fingers and pulled out his cock. He wrenched her panties to the side and thrust into her hard. She let out a small cry and he hastily covered her mouth with his palm.

  “You like this,” he growled, pushing in and out of her roughly. “You like it in the ass, don’t you?”

  She moaned when he rubbed her clit with his other hand. He growled as his orgasm raced through him. He thrust harder and faster until their bodies shook with the pleasure of their release.

  He fell onto her back, spent and heaving deeply. “Pull your panties up. We need a dinner to finish.”

  “Eric, what are you doing?” Anne asked.

  He turned up to look at her. Her golden hair glowed in the rays of the afternoon sun. The air was mingled with the smell of freshly dug earth and the scent of flowers.

  He smiled. Two weeks ago, she would have had a fit if she discovered he had dug in her garden. But now, she stood standing on the path, her trust in him evident in her eyes.

  “Don’t move,” he warned. “Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll show you.”

  “Lucy called.” Her voice grew a tad serious. “The way she was going on about no one being here to watch over me, someone would thing she was returning home tomorrow.”

  “Is she?” he asked cautiously.

  “Coming back? No.” She shook her head. “She’s with her family in Atlanta and she doesn’t get to see them all the time. I’m sure she was just worried about me, that’s all.”

  His eyes deepened with concern. But what if she did come back? What then? He didn’t know if Lucy would remember him. He didn’t know how she would react. If she was even the slightest bit protective as she was when they first met, she would try and get him out of the house and away from Anne before the month was up. His two great weeks of friendship and trust would be nothing in comparison to Lucy’s solid presence in Anne’s life.