Second Chances: Love Nibbles Page 5

  Her intensity reached its peak and climax rocketed through her. Everything she thought she knew about her sexual side and what she liked or needed exploded. Her orgasm was nothing less than cathartic. Tears mingled with her sudden laughter.

  She pressed her mouth against soft cotton T-shirt and hard muscle. “That was unbelievable.”

  Ryan laughed too as he set her back on her feet. The sound of someone trying the door handle slapped the smiles off both their faces. They hurried to adjust their clothes and find Camilla’s shoe which had fallen off, while the intruder knocked on the door.

  “Just a minute!” Camilla called, grateful the ladies’ room had a door lock as well as individual stalls.

  She pulled up her underwear and straightened her skirt, checked to make sure Ryan was presentable, then opened the door.

  The girl on the other side was already giving Camilla a strange look about the locked door before she spotted Ryan behind her. The girl’s eyes opened wide.

  “Sorry. My boyfriend was helping me with an issue. My, um, contacts. I had something in my eye.” Camilla mumbled. She grabbed Ryan’s hand and they hurried back to the alley where pins crashed and players whooped. “So much for our evening of innocent fun.”

  He wrapped an arm around her. “I thought we’d be safe in a bowling alley, but your sexuality is too powerful. I couldn’t resist it.”

  Laughter percolated through her again. She felt as bubbly as soda, young and carefree and light.

  “Ready for another game?” Ryan asked when they reached their lane. “I can have them put the gutter guards down this time if that will help.”

  “Hey, I don’t need gutter guards. I bowl just fine.”

  “Sure you do.” He stooped and kissed her with a soft, warm brush of his lips, then rested his forehead against hers. “I’m glad you gave me another chance.”

  She smiled. “Thanks for asking me out. But I want you to know, I was about to call you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I figured, what the hell, it’s time to try something new. Time to move on.”

  Epilogue

  Camilla gazed at the empty shelves, white lines against the pale green wall. The shelves Ryan had built for her looked spacious and inviting. She couldn’t wait to fill them with books, old favorites and several new ones she’d picked up.

  She opened a box and took out her favorite Austen volume, set it on one of the lower shelves then stood back to admire it. The job was going to take a long time if she worked this slowly, but she had plenty of time. She had the entire summer. A sabbatical from her job. Soon she’d leave for her trip to England. Finally she’d see places she’d only read about and explore the homeland of some of her favorite authors as she’d always planned to do.

  She wouldn’t say it was all because of Ryan, though he’d had an awful lot to do with opening her up to possibilities in life. He wouldn’t be making the trip with her, but that was all right. This was about finding out who she was other than Sam’s wife or an English professor. This move was about finding herself.

  The doorbell rang and she began to smile even before she opened it.

  Ryan waited on her doorstep. Her heart did a slow flip as it always did at the sight of him. The T-shirt stretched across his chest bore the logo Stanfield Plumbing.

  “I understand you need a pipe tightened. I’m here to service you.”

  “I think you have the wrong apartment. I was expecting a guy named Morty with a big belly and a couple of inches of ass crack showing.”

  “I’d be happy to show you my ass crack, ma’am.” He pulled her into his arms and cut off her laughter with kisses that made her head light and her body heavy with desire.

  After several moments, she drew away and caught her breath. She took his hand and led him into the living room where the Austen volume sat alone on its white shelf.

  “Thanks again for my shelves. They’re beautiful.”

  “Very nice. Is that the only book you’re planning on keeping?” He hugged her against his side.

  “Bit by bit. It’s a work in progress.” She leaned into him. “How is working for your dad going?”

  “Better pay than the moving company, but I think he’s expecting I’ll settle in and forget all this stagecraft nonsense. That’s not going to happen.”

  She nodded. After Ryan finished his degree he’d pursue work that might perhaps take him far from her. But if that happened it would be all right. And, who knew, if their feelings for each other grew even deeper maybe she’d move with him to wherever he went. All paths were open to her.

  For right now, they were together and would make the most of every minute they could share. She turned, slid her hands up to his shoulders, and tipped her head back to look into his face. “Hey, do you want to help me unpack my books? I have some erotica in there you might enjoy.”

  “No shit?”

  “Hot, perverted nineteenth century prose. Art porn. You’ll love it.”

  “You’ll read it to me in bed? Naked?”

  Her voice grew husky. “I’ll tie you to the bed posts and read until you come from the sound of my voice.”

  His pale green eyes darkened with lust and he exhaled a shaky breath. “I’m halfway there already.”

  She chuckled. Ryan caught her chin in his hand and gazed into her eyes. “I knew when I first saw you that you’d be even more beautiful when you laughed.”

  His warm mouth pressed against hers, his tongue gliding gently between her lips. Oh, how he could kiss. She gripped his hair and kissed him back for many beautiful minutes.

  At last, she pushed him away. “Go on. Get something to eat, while I find the book I’m thinking of.”

  He walked toward the kitchen, and Camilla sorted through the box of books, stacking those she loved in one pile and stories she’d outgrown in another. She found the Victorian erotica and smiled as she read several passages. It would enhance their afternoon’s pleasure nicely.

  Rising, she looked around the living room, her living room in her apartment which now felt like home. She’d changed the couch for something more contemporary and given up on finding a spot for that still life. She’d gotten rid of many things she used to think were indispensable. The only boxes left in the room contained books.

  Once more she surveyed the expanse of empty white shelves waiting to be filled. They were wide open and inviting, exciting in their possibility.

  The End

  A Note from Bonnie: Love Nibbles is a series of short stories and novellas written for various anthologies over the years. Although newly edited, they represent an earlier time in my writing. I hope you enjoy these shorts.

  If you want to stay informed about more Love Nibbles or my full length new releases, please SIGN UP FOR MY NEWSLETTER by clicking on the link. You can learn more about my backlist at http://bonniedee.com and find me on FB and Twitter @Bonnie_Dee. And if you want to help spread the word about my books, I’d love to welcome you to my street team at FB

  If you enjoyed this short and are interested in checking out some of my complete novels, you might enjoy A Hearing Heart, which is also about a woman starting her life over.

  The heart conveys messages beyond what ears can hear.

  After the death of her fiancé, Catherine Johnson, a New York schoolteacher in 1902, travels to Nebraska to teach in a one-room school. When violence erupts in the sleepy town, Catherine saves deaf stable hand, Jim Kinney from torture by drunken thugs.

  As she begins teaching Jim to read and sign, attraction grows between them. The warmth and humor in this silent man transcends the need for speech and his eyes tell her all about his feelings for her. But the obstacles of class difference and the stigma of his handicap are almost insurmountable barriers to their growing affection.

  Will Catherine flaunt society’s rules and allow herself to love again? Can Jim make his way out of poverty as a deaf man in a hearing world? And will the lovers overcome a corrupt robber baron who has a stranglehold on the town? Roman
ce, sensuality and adventure abound in this heartfelt tale.

  Excerpt from A Hearing Heart:

  Broughton, Nebraska, 1901

  Catherine Johnson stepped out of the general mercantile onto the wooden walkway, adjusting her mesh shopping bag on one wrist and the brown paper-wrapped parcels in her other arm. A stiff breeze cut through the fabric of her dress and twisted her long skirt around her legs. Grit scoured her cheeks and stung her eyes. At least the road wasn’t muddy, but she faced a long walk back to the McPhersons’ farm carrying all her purchases. She’d be glad when her stay there was over and she moved in with the Albrights in town. Shuttling from home to home was one of the more unpleasant aspects of teaching in a one-room schoolhouse.

  Sometimes she wished she’d never left New York to come to Nebraska. On a Saturday afternoon in White Plains she’d be strolling along a brick path in the park with fountains and flowerbeds gracing the way. Here in Broughton she fought the ever-present wind and choking dust while her shoes tapped an uneven rhythm on the warped boards of the sidewalk.

  The town was quiet for a Saturday, the street nearly empty. She was almost to the last building on Main Street, where the dusty road became prairie, when several men erupted from the saloon in front of her. The swinging doors crashed against the wall.

  Catherine stumbled backward, dropping one of her packages, heart pounding

  A raw-boned man with no chin and his stocky, black-bearded partner dragged a man between them. Behind them staggered a burly fellow with heavy-lidded eyes. He was shouting curses, using words Catherine had never heard. The only man in the group she recognized was the one the others gripped by the arms. He was Jim Kinney, the deaf-mute man who worked at the livery stable.

  Jim glared at his captors through a fringe of dark hair. The burly man moved in front of him and plowed a fist into his stomach. The stable hand doubled over with a whoosh of air.

  The skinny man hauled him upright and the bearded one punched his jaw, snapping his head to the side. Jim cried out, a hoarse, wordless sound. Bracing himself against the pair holding his arms, he kicked out with both feet at the man who’d hit him, landing a solid blow to his chest.

  “Tie him up,” the droopy-eyed man slurred. “Teach him some respect.”

  Catherine stood rooted to the spot, horrified but too shocked to react as one of the men grabbed a rope from his horse’s saddle at the hitching post. When he began tying Jim’s hands, she finally found her voice.

  “Stop it! Stop!” She dropped her parcels and bag on the sidewalk and ran toward them. “Leave him alone!”

  For a second, Jim’s dark eyes met hers, and then the men dragged him out to the street, whooping in drunken glee and ignoring Catherine as if she was voiceless.

  “Stop!” she yelled in frustration, her hands clenching helplessly at her sides.

  The black-bearded man blocked her way, and she pushed past him, the sour stench of sweat and alcohol wrinkling her nose.

  The leader mounted his horse and wrapped the end of the rope around the pommel of his saddle. Jim struggled to free his hands until the rope stretched taut and jerked him forward, forcing him to keep pace with the horse. The rider kneed his mount and it moved from a walk to a trot.

  Jim ran behind, stumbling as he tried to keep on his feet.

  Catherine screamed for help. A few men came from the saloon while others stepped out of stores along the street.

  “Help!” she cried again, panic swelling in her chest. “Somebody help him.”

  Jim couldn’t keep up with the speed of the horse. He tripped, fell and was dragged along the ground. Spooked by the creature on its heels, the horse whinnied and plunged ahead. A cloud of dust from its hooves concealed the body bumping over the ruts behind it.

  The rider pulled the horse’s head up, turned and rode back toward where his companions stood laughing and shouting encouragement.

  People emerging from the barbershop, the mercantile and feed store all stood watching. No one was going to interfere, risking the drunken men’s anger.

  The horse cantered toward Catherine. Without a thought beyond stopping the stable hand’s torture, she ran into the road, waving her arms and shouting. The animal reared on its hind legs, dumping its rider to the ground. For a moment all she could see was hooves flailing and the chestnut body rising high above her. How very tall a horse was when standing on two legs. The inane thought flashed in her mind before the animal came down on all fours.

  She seized the bridle and her fingers grazed its warm jaw. The horse blew hay-scented breath into her face with a soft chuffing sound.

  “Sh. Easy. Easy,” she crooned, stroking its neck. She moved alongside and reached for the rope tied to the pommel. Even standing on her toes with her chest pressed against the horse’s heaving flank she could barely reach it, and the knot was so tight she couldn’t loosen it.

  Catherine glanced at Jim’s dusty body sprawled in the road, and the horse’s rider staggering to his feet, cursing as he brushed off his clothes.

  Now that the crisis was past, a couple of men from the feed store came out to the street and grabbed the leader of the thugs, while someone else ran to get the deputy. A few patrons of the tavern collared the other two roughnecks. Mr. Murdoch, the saloonkeeper knelt in the road beside Jim and untied his wrists.

  Catherine walked over to the prone body of the stable hand and watched Murdoch feel his limbs for broken bones.

  “Is he alive?” She squatted beside the dust-covered body, her skirt pooling around her. The man’s eyes were closed and blood seeped from abrasions on his dirt-streaked face.

  “He’s unconscious, but I think he’ll be all right. Damn! If only he’d kept out of their way,” Murdoch said.

  “He needs the doctor.”

  “Already sent someone to get him.”

  Catherine pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the blood on Jim’s forehead. “What happened?”

  “Drunken fools called for another round. Shirley was tending another table so they shouted at Jim to get their drinks. Of course, he couldn’t hear ’em. He’s there to push a broom, not wait tables. They started yelling, grabbed him and dragged him outside.”

  Catherine bit back her question of why it had taken him so long to come to Jim’s aid. Pushing back a lock of the man’s dark hair, she examined the wound at his temple. “I thought Mr. Kinney worked at the livery stable.”

  “Works there too. Has a room back of the stables. Christ! Where’s the damn doc? Pardon the language.”

  A young woman ran up to them, her skirts held high enough to show striped stockings all the way to her knees. Her red hair straggled from the bun in back to frame her round, red-cheeked face. The neckline of her dress revealed most of her bosom, which rose and fell as she panted. “Doc’s out on a call, Mr. Murdoch. Is he okay?”

  “Damn! Hope to hell there ain’t anything broken. Guess all we can do is carry him back to his room.”

  Several men had gathered around, and three of them lifted Jim’s body. He groaned, and his eyes opened, his gaze focusing on Catherine.

  She smiled. “It’s all right. You’ll be all right.”

  He blinked, but she didn’t know if he’d understood. She’d only seen the man once or twice since she’d moved here. People said he was slow as well as deaf and mute.

  Walking beside the men carrying him, she kept her gaze locked on his in an attempt to offer encouragement. The eyes that stared back at her were focused and intelligent. She could almost see his thoughts busily flickering in them, but with no voice to give substance those thoughts remained locked inside. Catherine realized he wasn’t mentally impaired at all.

  The men carried him through the doors of the livery stable, and Catherine lost eye contact with Jim. Her stomach churned and her nerves jangled, unsurprising since a rearing horse had nearly trampled her. The deputy would probably have questions for her as the main witness of the altercation, but for now she was intent on seeing what she could do to h
elp Jim Kinney. She followed the men into the livery.

  * * * *

  His body ached in a thousand places. Every bone hurt. Every inch of exposed skin was shredded. He felt like he’d been dragged down the street behind a horse. Jim smiled at the sarcastic thought, then groaned as one of the men carrying him jarred his right side.

  Three faces hovered above him. Murdoch frowned. His mouth moved beneath his handlebar moustache as he said something to John Walker from the hardware store. Jim recognized the third man from the feed store. Their faces were strained with the effort of carrying him and their fiercely gripping hands hurt like hell. He wished they’d set him down and let him get himself back to his room. Even if he had to crawl it would be less painful.

  Jim glanced past Walker, who was carrying his legs, and tried to catch another glimpse of the schoolteacher. She must’ve left.

  He wondered if any of his bones were broken, wondered if someone was getting the doctor, and how he’d pay the man. How soon would he be able to work again? If his body failed him, he was in trouble. That’s why he always took good care of himself, careful to keep healthy and steer clear of dangerous situations. From a lifetime of practice, he’d become adept at avoiding drunks or bullies who wanted to show their manliness with their fists and found him an easy target.

  But today he hadn’t been alert. He’d been thinking about Shirley Mae and what she’d done for him the previous night. He’d only paid for a hand job. It was all he could afford, but he was desperate for something more than his own touch. Shirley had given him a blowjob for free. She’d pointed to the rhinestone comb in her hair, the one he’d found one day while sweeping the bar and returned to her, then she’d bent her head and taken his cock in her mouth. With that memory in mind, he hadn’t even been aware of the three drunken men until they grabbed him.

  Now Walker and the other men were maneuvering Jim through the narrow doorway of his room. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out as they jostled his body. When they laid him on his cot, he exhaled in relief.