19
Kris
I’m fuming. Reading her old contract and seeing that they pushed medical decisions on her was the last straw. Hopping into my Dodge RAM, I pull on down the road and stop. Dialing Nicolette, I let it ring as I pop several Listerine strips into my bourbon—soaked mouth.
“Hey, whatcha up to?” Nicolette answers with what sounds like a tickle in her throat.
“Hey, you okay? You busy? Hungry? I need to move. I’ll be there in twenty. Figure I’ll swing by Curb Stomp. We have a really good eggplant parm sandwich on the menu today. I can get us a thirteen-incher to split and loaded sweet potato fries, maybe a couple cherry coke floats? Whattaya say?” I know I’m talking a mile a minute, but if I let her get in a word too many, she’ll shut me out.
“I need to get a shower, but yeah, we can do that.”
Thank God for small gifts.
“Alright, be ready. When I get there, I’ll lean on the horn, don’t much wanna run into anybody.”
“I’m the only one here. Pop stormed out when Pierce was here.”
“Ah—yeah… Cliff…” I think about how I left him and give zero fucks about it. “I’ll call for the food. See ya in about twenty.” Hanging up, I do as I say and head for Curb Stomp. The place is usually filling up about now for the Saturday lunch rush. Tomorrow it will be a mid-day full country—style brunch. We cater mostly to the Southern Baptists of the area, and they come full of the Holy Ghost but with empty stomachs. So we aim to fix that.
“Hey, Barb.” I try smiling at the weekend hostess, but my anger is still very much not in check.
“You startin’ early, Kristopher?” She asks, obviously smelling the booze.
I shrug. “Trying to soak it up if possible.”
“Your order should be up in about five. Let me get you a strong cup of joe.”
I nod and sit in the little alcove for pick-up customers. It doesn’t take her long to bring me a to-go cup filled with hot, steaming coffee. “Thanks, Barb.”
“Anytime, honey.” She pats my shoulder.
Coffee down and food in bags, I head on up the road to Nicolette’s place. It’s a sweet mountain home of stone and wood facial. It could be really beautiful, but it needs a landscaper in the worst way possible. Parking out in the driveway, I walk over to the front door, and sure enough, she’s left it unlocked.
I shake my head. It’s not an unsafe neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean a woman home alone should leave her doors unlocked. Especially if she’s gonna be in the shower. I mean, how much more vulnerable can you get? Naked, soaking wet, and probably covered in suds… My lip upturns. I shouldn't think about that, but this girl does have a pretty great rack, and I’m betting that all soaped up, they would be wildly fun to screw.
Walking inside, I am in a wide—open space. The sparsely decorated foyer leads into a cozy great room with leather furniture, big stuffed ottomans, and a fireplace. On the built-in mantles are a few trophies and pictures. One, in particular, catches my eye. A lovely—looking pregnant woman with Bobby holding her from behind. I’m betting this was her momma. Bobby looks so happy… I remember that kind of happiness.
“You mother fucker. Fucking flake. I’ll make sure to leave a nice review on your page. Asshole.” Nicolette shouts from somewhere in the house. I turn as she lets out another scream. “FUCK! I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry?” I watch her. She’s in black faded skinny jeans, with the purposeful frayed bits. Her boots are black with just a touch of girly heel. Well, as much as a woman’s cowboy boot gets anyway, but she’s got a towel on her head and no damn shirt! Instead, she’s got her hand over her heaving breasts, which are spilling out over the top of her towel.
“Okay, so you caused your heart attack for the day. I’m almost ready. I had a meeting with a contractor, and they bailed again.” She turns back toward the room she came from. Presumably, her bedroom. Christ, her ass looks great in those jeans.
“What do you need a contractor for?” I ask since she didn’t actually close the door. I lean against the wall near it. Though I don’t look inside, instead, I avert my eyes to the wall across from me. It’s a painting of the King himself. An Oil relief, and I can see that it’s actually a Loxi Sibley original. Though the frame has been changed, much to my voyeuristic delight, it has got a mirrored edge. Letting me glimpse straight into the cracked doorway. She drops the towel. I feel my cheeks flush, and not from the bourbon. Her large breasts sit nicely on her little frame, and her nipples are a perfect shade of primrose. She grabs a dark green lacy bra off the bed. Not one of those regular bras, though. This is one of those that go down to the ribs and take six million years to unsnap. I might be staring—just a smidge.
“Kris, can you help me a second?” Nicolette calls out to me, turning her back. I shake out of my sexually hazed thought and push the door open.
“What’s—oh?” I act embarrassed, can’t have her thinking I was watching, now can I? “I didn’t realize.”
“If you’ve seen one woman, you’ve seen us all. Can you snap me, please?” She looks over her smooth and perfect shoulder. The wildflower tattoo array really brings out the curve of her back, especially against the green of the bra.
“Not true. Every woman is different. Some are fuller, some heavy, some hang, others bounce. Some nipples fade into the breast, and others are like crimson targets or chocolate kisses aching to melt in my mouth.” I grab the bra and make quick time with the hooks. My hands smooth down her arms. “I wonder what surprises you hold.”
“Surprises?” She questions and a shiver runs through her.
My fingers press her forearms more firmly, and my cock twitches for the first time in months. Licking my lips, I dip my head down to the space between her neck and her ear. “I think you have secrets. If you want to whisper them, I’m all ears.”
Her head tilts toward mine. “Kris—” She’s a little breathless. Her hand finds mine and grips it tightly before she turns to me. Our eyes meet, and she’s wrapping her arms around my neck. Our lips are millimeters apart when she pulls back from me. “You’ve been drinking?”
My eyes close in pain, and I swallow. Being this close to her, I’m intoxicated, but the effects of the bourbon are long gone. I slowly nod. “It was a bad day until I saw you.”
“I can’t let you kiss me. Not yet, but soon.”
I step back softly, clearing my throat. My face is probably redder than a toddler's ass after a tantrum, but at least my hardon isn’t raging. “On your terms.” With my head lowered, I back out of the room. “Food’s in the truck. I thought we could go over to Sevier Park. There’s a nice spot by the creek that should be blooming now.” I’m such an asshole. I get something good, and now I gotta go and try and fuck it up.
Nicolette reaches out and grabs my hand. “Hey, you can’t help but wanna kiss me. I’m hot.”
“That’s good because we may need to reheat those subs if you take any longer!” I wink at her, closing the door.