Chapter 23
On his computer screen, Bill watched the credits from yet another movie roll by. He must have watched a dozen of them since the night he’d totaled his car trying to multitask.
He rested his head back against the recliner and pushed off the side table with his hand to swivel from side to side. Any movement, no matter how slight, was better than this constant sitting still. He was so over movies. So over computer games. So over being stuck in this chair.
His lung didn’t hurt any more when he inhaled. And yesterday at his check-up, the doctor had said his broken ribs seemed to be healing on schedule.
He had to find some way to keep from going bananas while biding his time until he could drive again. He considered all the usual diversions: yet another movie, checking in with the office, texting with friends, reading the latest real estate journal a third time.
None of those things could cure the longing that was eating him up inside.
So when his phone rang, his spirits leapt . . . until he saw the name on the screen.
“Hi, Deb.”
She had been back twice since that awkward day Sake had walked in on everyone sitting around his kitchen table.
By the second time, Deb’s smarty-pants blathering had started to grate on him.
Hypocrite. Everyone knew Bill Diamond was as loquacious as a Fox News reporter on Red Bull. But you couldn’t have two know-it-alls trying to hold forth at the same time. It just didn’t work.
“Hey! Listen, I’m stopping by the deli for lunch and I wondered if I can bring you a Reuben or something.”
“Uh, hold on . . .” He faked a yawn. “I just closed my eyes . . . was up all night finishing my book.”
“Oh. Well, do you want me to just drop it off for you to eat later? I have to rush back for a staff meeting by one, anyway. The new computer system is giving everyone fits. Our administration is making the excuse that . . .”
“Deb?” he cut in. “I appreciate the thought, but I’ve got leftovers in the fridge, and it sounds like you’re pretty busy. If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll take a pass this time.” He might be sorry as soon as he hung up, but he couldn’t handle another dose of Deb right now.
He pressed end and the silence of his apartment descended around him again.
Only an hour had passed since he’d last gone to the door to holler for the dog, but he grabbed his crutch and struggled to his feet anyway.
“Taylor!” he yelled out the door.
Bill never lost track of how long The Beast had been gone. It was always the same number of days since his wreck. The odds of Taylor returning now were practically nonexistent. He looked down at her bowl, which Mom had refreshed just that morning when she’d come to check on Bill. The sad, neat pyramid of kibble was still intact.
But what did it matter how bad he felt? Imagine how Sake feels. She lost her life in the city, then her dog, and then you dumped her, too.
He limped back to his chair, remembering the last time she’d been here—in that spot on the floor right next to his chair. He’d spent the minutes after she’d flounced out in that short skirt fantasizing about what was under it and all the things he wanted to do with it.
Despite Deb’s hourglass curves, he never had thoughts like that about her.
Maybe it was finally his heart talking, not his head.
He picked up his phone.
An hour later, Sake stuck her head in the door. “I’m here. Don’t get up.” She came in holding a cake-shaped container.
Bill had forgotten she still had keys. He rotated in his chair to see her, with a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks.
The sight of the books, newspapers, and sports magazines heaped around his La-Z-Boy stopped her in her tracks.
“Sorry about the mess. My parents brought me all this stuff to keep me busy while I’m under house arrest. Think I’ve read it all—twice.”
“I brought you cake.” She stepped over a magazine on her way to the kitchen.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that the guard didn’t confiscate the file inside of it?”
She set the container down on the kitchen counter and walked into the living room, taking a seat across from him on his L-shaped couch.
“Is that dress new?”
She smoothed the skirt out on her thighs. “Jeanne got it for me.”
“You look”—sweeter than the morning and hotter than a fox in a forest fire—“really pretty.”
One eyebrow arched. “Don’t get your hopes up. This ain’t no conjugal visit.”
He snapped his fingers. “Dang.”
By now, Bill knew Sake’s tough talk was all a put-on. She could slip in and out of it like—well. Best not to think about her slipping in and out of anything, in his condition.
“They take away your razor, too?”
His hand went to his jaw to rub his beard. “You don’t like stubble? I’ll shave it.” Next to her, he felt like the shaggy, old mountain lion he’d once seen limping across Ridge Road. Still, his shit-eating grin refused to be tamed. She must think him a total fool.
“I didn’t say that,” she replied with a half smile, a sidelong glance.
“What kind of vehicle are you tooling around in? I forgot to ask the last time you were here.”
“I think it’s a Subaru. They got so many vehicles up at that winery they don’t know what to do with them.”
“Work still going well?”
She sat back and crossed her legs, swinging one bootie rhythmically.
Nice view. Don’t move an inch.
“It’s good. Coworkers are nice. Some ladies came in already knowing I worked there, somehow. They recognized me before I even opened my mouth. So weird.”
“That can be a real problem, just so you know. Char and Meri both have been chased by paparazzi.”
“They told me.”
“What?” Bill started. “You mean to tell me the ice has broken up on Dry Creek Road? Now there’s a story the media would love to get its hands on.”
A smile blossomed on her face, the most serene smile Bill had ever seen on her.
“Thanks to Jeanne. She kind of corralled us together. Got us planning a baby shower for Sauvignon. Did you know Savvy was already knocked up when she got married?”
“Jeanne?” Bill had only heard half of what Sake said. He was too busy trying to pinpoint everything that was different about her since he’d last seen her.
“Papa calls her his cook, but she’s way more than that. Practically runs everything at the house.”
“Did she happen to be wearing a big pink hat at Savvy’s wedding?”
Sake pulled a face. “Seriously? You think I can remember what color hat someone had on the day I almost died?” She leaned in, warming up to him. “Try to keep up! Did you know my sister was already preggers when she got hitched?”
“I thought everybody knew that.”
Sake threw a hand up in the air. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. Maybe you don’t have to be perfect to be a St. Pierre, after all.” She hopped up. “Want some cake?”
Bill didn’t have the pistachios to tell Sake that she was the only one in the whole valley who thought of the St. Pierres as perfect. Her father, in particular.
Without waiting for an answer, she went to the kitchen. Bill turned his chair to follow her with his gaze. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought of Sake as a nuisance to be gotten rid of. Now every second of her presence was a gift.
She returned holding a plate and two forks.
“I could only find one saucer.”
“The rest are probably in the dishwasher. Here.” He grabbed his crutch and struggled to get up without looking too clumsy. “I’ll sit next to you so we can share.”
“Are you sure? That chair is probably your safest bet.”
“I’m so sick of that chair I’m planning on burning it as soon as I get this cast off.” He hobbled over and dropped onto the couch, muttering, “And this was going to be the season I finally broke eighty.”
She sat down next to him and handed him a fork.
“This cake is fantastic. Did you get it at Mon Rêve?”
“I came up with this recipe years ago. You sure did make short work of that. Want some more?”
Another chance to watch her body sashay across his floor? You bet. “You made that yourself?”
“So yeah,” she said, after they’d polished off the second slice. “Char and Meri aren’t so bad, once you start talking to them, get inside their heads.”
“What happened to you thinking you were Cinderella and Char and Meri were the wicked stepsisters?” Bill poked her in the side and she folded in half, giggling. When she sat up again, her shoulder landed against his. She didn’t move away.
“I said we were talking. I didn’t say we were besties. Things haven’t gone that far.”
“Maybe this Jeanne will help you all work through it, when the time is right.”
Sake’s leg lay next to his. The contrast of his baggy gray sweatpants only made her firm muscles, her bare skin appear sleeker. Damn the consequences—she was irresistible. He put his hand on her thigh.
Sake noted his hand on her leg as coolly as if she were contemplating signing a variable rate mortgage with a hefty balloon payment.
Where was that girl who thought so little of herself that she’d whisked her top off right here in this very room, offering her precious body as payback for driving lessons?
And what had happened to that man who’d turned his back on her for someone who supposedly suited him better?
“I missed you, Sake.”
She looked up at him, clear-eyed. “Because you’re that guy who always needs people around and you haven’t had that lately?”
“I’ve had people around.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Who?”
“My parents. Keith, my golf buddy. John, another Realtor.”
“Where’s your doctor friend?” Sake’s eyes circled the room, as if waiting for Deb to pop out of a closet. “Thought she was more your type. Got her life on lock . . . all ‘pruhfeshnal.’” She made little air quotes. “Your mama’s so in the car with her, in case you didn’t know. How come you didn’t call her if you’re lonely?”
“She called me earlier today, I’ll have you know.”
“But?”
“I told her not to come.”
Bill’s pulse picked up. He reached his arm around Sake and drew her close. They stayed like that, nose to nose, for a moment, breathing in the scent of each other. And then he kissed her. Softly, at first, and then his long-suppressed desire regained traction. He tested her lips with his tongue . . . tentatively, then, when she reciprocated, harder until finally, he poured himself into her, leaning over her lithe body with his broken one.
All those evenings with her sitting inches away when she was learning to drive, it was like touching her would have broken some lame teacher–student taboo. And then, after he’d met Deb—his ideal match, on paper—he’d simply pretended his desire for Sake didn’t exist. But he’d never been able to put her aside completely. And now here she was, in his arms, hot and sweet and firm and soft, all at the same time . . . and all those weeks of denial ran together, culminating in a need stronger than anything he’d ever felt before, for anyone.
He pulled back to catch his breath and to sweep his gaze down her fine-boned body.
“I thought we were played out.”
“Sake,” he breathed. “We’re just getting started.”
When she lifted her mouth for round two of kissing, the urgent tug of need in Bill was leaving his usual propriety in the dust. Impulsively, he slid his hand up under her skirt, his heart thrilling when she lifted her hips to grant him access. Single-mindedly he grasped at the strip of nothingness wrapped around her hips and tugged, first one side then the other, working her panties down until they were out of sight and out of mind.
When he brought his hand back to her, she coiled like a spring. He was exultant. Finally, he’d timed something right. Working around the impediment of his cast, he reached an arm around her waist, hauling her hips down so that they were under his. Now nothing stood between them but his sweats, and he could get them off in—
“Stop!”
“What?” Please—not my parents stopping by unexpectedly.
“Listen!”
And then he heard it, too: a scratching sound.
Sake pushed Bill away to scramble off the couch, tripping over a stack of books in her haste, and tore open the door.
“Taylor! My baby!”