Chapter Fourteen

Through sheer determination, Beth wrote ten thousand more words on her novel in the days after her fall-out with Chris. She knew the writing was more garbage than art, but forcing the words out felt good. She’d turned the ruggedly handsome stranger with irresistible sex appeal into the dangerous, potentially violent stranger. She wasn’t sure when the story went from being a romance to being a dark mystery-thriller.

She enjoyed writing several scenes set at dusk in which the shadows deepened and wild predatory animals skulked past the heroine while she traveled to and from work, home, and errands. But no matter how much she invented things to haunt the protagonist in the story, it still didn’t match the way thoughts of Chris, of his rough, calloused hands, his hard body, his aggressive love-making, or his soft kisses haunted her nights and her sleep.

Maybe this was why Heathcliff was both such a frightening, violent character and yet he fascinated Cathy in Wuthering Heights, along with hundreds of thousands of female readers since its publication. She wondered whether Chris was driven mad over thoughts of her, as she seemed over thoughts of him. She was in her 50s! She shouldn’t be consumed with passion rivaling teenage obsessions and Gothic novels.

Late afternoon, she drove into the outskirts of Santa Fe to buy the groceries she’d needed since her appliances were installed. She stopped in at several places, familiar and unfamiliar, including a Trader Joe’s, an all-organic grocers, and a place specializing in olive oil. At another, she picked up local organic honey, and finished her shopping at a place with an extensive wine, beer and liquor selections. She’d indulged herself, buying interesting jars of sauces and spices, imported cheeses and cured meats, highly rated wines and a large bottle of tequila. If she couldn’t indulge her newly awaken wantonness with sex, she’d do it by overspending on decadent food and drink.

She’d also searched out and found a local writer’s group, which met at the Santa Fe Public Library on the last Saturday morning of each month. Alone for the first time in her life without friends nearby, her interlude with Chris had reminded her writing was a lonely activity, and she needed a supportive community in which to get feedback and encouragement. When she was a teacher, she saw hundreds of people a day. Now, living on an isolated acre, on the outskirts of a city in the New Mexico mountains, at the base of a National Historic Park, she could go weeks seeing no one. She was an introvert, and she didn’t want to see hundreds of people a day anymore, but it had been nice having Chris around, even for a sense of companionship.

She didn’t pretend attending a writing group, or even making new friends in the area, would carry the same impact in her life Chris had after only one day. But she was a grown woman, capable of moving on. She’d moved on after a 30-year marriage, without a lot of pain. She could get over a one-week affair with a man who she never intended to have a long-term relationship with in the first place. She’d had fun, she’d learned new things to enhance her experience as a writer, and she’d discovered it was possible to fall for someone again.

Not that she was in love with Chris, but that when, and if, she met someone more compatible, more sexy, more interesting, who shared her ideas and beliefs, she could consider falling in love again. Life was short. She didn’t want to waste time on people who didn’t value women or support women’s rights. Someone who voted for people who debased women, who were racist and didn’t care about the country.

She let herself get worked up over the last conversation she’d had with Chris as she added another $35 bottle of wine to her cart, forgetting she’d made herself a budget limiting herself to $15 per bottle. The angrier she stayed, the easier it was not to feel a sense of loss, of having misjudged him somewhere along the way, of having overreacted. Everything between them had been so perfect, so easy, so joyful. She hadn’t expected the turn of events. Nothing in his behavior suggested he was disrespectful of women. He spoke affectionately, even proudly, about his mother, his sisters, his daughter, even his office assistant. He’d been an attentive gentleman around her, opening doors, making sure she was okay in the storm, helping her with things around the house.

He hadn’t even been a typical guy, expecting to be waited on. He joined her in the kitchen, helped prepare meals, helped wash up the dishes, did the grocery shopping. He checked all the boxes for being a guy, carrying heavy things, making sure she didn’t drive in dangerous conditions, lighting the fire, being assertive, even aggressive, in the bedroom, but he’d also done chores traditionally assigned to women without a single complaint or need for praise.

Still, for all the rounds she went in her head, getting angry all over again, each round wore her down, came with increasing doubts about her reaction and expectations. Was this how women submitted to dominant men? Doubting themselves and slowly but surely abandoning their own principles in order to maintain a harmonious relationship with a man?

She made her last stop, a specialty Indian shop about to close for the evening. Its website claimed it carried imported food items like curry sauces and jarred marinades, besan flour, and frozen paratha bread. She’d planned on cooking an Indian meal for Chris before they fought. Didn’t matter. She was determined to prepare her favorite recipe, chicken biryani, even if it was only for herself. She could package and freeze the extra portions for easy dinners later in the month. Later, when she’d made other friends, she could throw a small dinner party and serve pakora, biryani, tandoori and a variety of breads with aromatic saffron basmati rice. Those recipes she’d mastered, and she wouldn’t mind mastering a few more from her cookbook collection.

Loaded up with several heavy bags of Indian food staples, she struggled slightly to get through the shop’s door and around her car to the trunk. She set the bags down to reach in to find her car keys when one bag tipped over, and a couple of jars began rolling down the slight incline of the parking lot. She chased after them and scooped them up as they were about to roll into the scrub at the edge of the lot. As she stood and turned, she saw a familiar man leaving a Mexican restaurant down from the shop she’d been in.

Could it be Chris? When he turned so the restaurant exterior lights lit up his face, she gasped. Chris was with a pretty woman, who looked to be in her early 40s. Stylish, professional, wearing a tailored skirt suit. Maybe it was a business meeting. Maybe it was one of his sisters. Maybe he had a late—nope scratch those explanations.

The woman slid her arms up around Chris’s neck and stretched up to kiss him directly on the mouth. Chris didn’t resist, letting her push her voluptuous body up tight against his.

Beth felt her heartbeat speed up, pain rising and cresting so rapidly she couldn’t do anything but watch, shocked by the public display between Chris and the woman. Shit. She needed to get out of there before he saw her. She hurried to her car, popped the trunk and tossed the loose cans in before lifting her bags in after. She shut the trunk lid and quietly as she could, took a deep breath and turned to walk to the driver’s door. Though the sun was setting, it was still light enough out to be seen and recognized. She tried to open the door and realized she hadn’t unlocked it yet.

“Beth?”

She fumbled with her keys, searching for the unlock button, accidentally hitting the lock button, and then lost her grip as they dropped to the ground. Her eyes were filling with tears. Please, no.

“Beth.” Chris’s voice had deepened into a command.

She picked up the keys and hit the right button and started to open the door when a large hand landed on the top of the door, holding it closed.

She huffed, keeping her back to Chris.

“Let go of my door, Chris.”

“No.” He caught her by the shoulders and tried to turn her towards him, but she resisted.

“Beth, please. I don’t know what you saw, but let me explain.”

She barked out a laugh, tipping her head down to rest it against the top edge of the car.

“I’ve heard conversation starters like that before, and I never liked hearing what was said afterwards. Let go of me.”

Tears escaped and slid down her cheeks. More than anything in the world, she did not want Chris to see her crying. Her humiliation was bad enough knowing that she’d been more into him than he’d been into her.

“Go back to your new girlfriend.”

Chris heaved a big sigh behind her, and crowded up against her, bracing his hands on either side of her and caging her against the car. It felt so good to be inside his arms again. She cursed their chemistry and connection.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” His deep voice growled into her ear, his warm breath bathing her neck in a gentle caress. She swallowed.

“Okay, whatever. Lover, hook-up, friend-with-benefits. I don’t care what you call her.”

“She’s an old friend—”

“Good god, Chris, how naïve do you think I am? I saw the two of you kissing. Please, go away.”

He took a hand away and stroked it down her hair, then slipped it in to stroke her neck underneath. The heat of his touch on her skin set all her senses alive. She could smell the damp desert and the smell of wood shavings, hear the traffic whizzing by on the main street and Chris’s quiet breathing. Then she smelled the perfume. It was a floral scent, and she knew Chris didn’t wear cologne. It had to be the woman’s.

“I’m sorry you saw that—”

“I’m sure you are. I’m not. I like knowing the truth.”

“As cliched as it sounds, it meant nothing. A friendly last kiss. I didn’t even kiss her back. I let her kiss me goodbye to be kind. That’s it.”

Beth let her tears fall silently, hoping he wouldn’t suspect a thing, but then one particularly large tear made a plotting noise as it hit the car, and then slid down the curve of the driver’s side window.

“Jesus, Beth. Please, turn around. Are you crying?”

She shook her head in denial, her throat too choked up to answer.

This time, when he put his hands on her shoulders to turn her around, he didn’t let her resist. She silently cursed men’s greater upper body strength as he forced her around to face him. She refused to meet his eyes, looking over his shoulder and firming her chin into a defiant pose.

“Fuck.”

Instead of using his fingers to wipe away her tears, he kissed them, the soft hairs of his beard and his lips brushing softly against her skin, absorbing and sweeping away the drops before they could fall.

“Beth, sweetie—”

Beth stayed stiff in his arms, hard against her desire to lean back into his strength, focusing on the perfume instead.

“Flower Bulb.”

“What?”

“Her perfume. My friend Adriana wears it. It’s called Flower Bulb. You reek of it.”

“I can’t possibly reek of it after a simple kiss goodbye.”

“Whatever. Please let me go. I have a car full of groceries and a long drive home.”

He took her chin in his fingers and tipped her face towards his.

“Beth, please look at me.”

He wanted her to look at him? She’d look at him. With all the disgust and disdain she could muster up. She’d been a teacher who’d perfected her nonverbal communication.

He started back a step when their eyes met. Then he smiled.

“You’ve got a lot of fire in you, honey.”

“Do not patronize me.”

“I’m not. I’m admiring you. I’ve never met someone with your exact blend of fire, sweetness, strength, and calm in my life.”

“Fine. I’m glad I’m such a rare person. Now. I really have to go.”

He released her, stepping back and giving her room to stand up straight. Finally.

“I’ll follow you home to make sure you get there safe.”

She looked at him in exasperation.

“I’m a grown woman who managed to drive all the way into Santa Fe by herself, and I’m perfectly capable of driving all the way back home. On. My. Own.

He took her face in his hand and leaned in. She tried to back up, but she was against the car again.

“This is not a goodbye kiss, because I will see you at your house. Then we’ll talk.”

With that pronouncement, he kissed her hard, possessively.

As he let her go, he smiled. “Now that was the kiss I needed like my next breath of air.”

With that parting comment, he strode away and got into his truck against the back corner, which she hadn’t noticed when she’d arrived.

Half-dazed and half-furious, she got into her car and started the engine. By the time she’d backed out of her space, he was waiting patiently to follow her.

Beth drove faster than she should have on the roads, but Chris never lost sight of her car, keeping his truck lights in her rearview window as a steady reminder he intended to follow her home, so they could talk. It was good luck to have run into her because he wasn’t sure she’d answer his call or text, and he didn’t want to show up unannounced at her house because that could feel stalkerish. And what is following her home, if not stalkerish? He cursed. It was also bad luck for her to have seen the goodbye kiss Evelyn had laid on him after dinner. Relationships were a goddamn minefield.

He thought Evelyn understood there would be nothing but friendship between them going forward, but that kiss suggested she hadn’t been as onboard with their changed status as he’d hoped. The interesting thing about the kiss was it didn’t stir him at all. He felt totally unaffected by it. He really did let her kiss him to be kind. Frankly—and it was insensitive of him to think it—it confirmed any remaining questions about whether he was going to miss Evelyn. He wasn’t. Not when he had Beth to kiss. Even if he didn’t have Beth to kiss, things between Evelyn and him were finished.

When Beth kissed him, his blood heated, and his heart raced. When Beth kissed him, he lost his head and all he could think about was how good she tasted, how soft she felt in his arms, how crazy her little hums and whimpers of pleasure turned him on. When Beth kissed him, he felt like he’d found a piece of paradise all his own. He was pretty sure this could be love. Now, all he had to do was convince her he was worthy of her love.

She took the final offramp, traveling fast and her car swung wide on the curve, barely clinging to the pavement before transitioning safely onto the two-lane highway leading them home. He growled. After he convinced her to take him back, he was going to teach the teacher about the consequences of being his woman and driving dangerously, and at night. The sun had set about fifteen minutes ago and while it wasn’t pitch dark, it was still harder to see the road than during the day. His hand itched to deliver sweet punishment to her bared ass. Then to ease the pain with his mouth.

Seeing her cry nearly broke his heart. He never, ever, wanted to be responsible for her tears again. She cried like she did almost everything else, quietly, with a restrained control. Didn’t want him to see her tears either. How about that? He’d met women who were expert criers and knew how to use them to manipulate a guy, including the mother of his daughter. Fortunately, their daughter had not taken after her mom in that regard. If he was paying child support, he insisted on his time with the kid. Growing up, she’d spent half her Saturdays and Sundays with him, or with his mom and sisters, if he’d been out of town on a ride. They’d modeled a different set of values for Jessica.

They never spoke a word against her mom, but they also didn’t speak particularly highly of her either. Jessica knew the score, accepted it. and did an amazing job of managing to love both sides of her family, albeit separately. He wanted to introduce Jessica to Beth, see what classy looked and sounded like. Shock the hell out of her seeing her old man with an educated and beautiful woman like Beth. No one in his family would believe Chris could crack her perfect shell and make her care about him. Or make her scream. He grinned in anticipation. He’d been born a bit of a charmer, and he’d be putting every ounce of skill he had into convincing Beth they would be good together long-term.

Only days apart and all he could think about was stripping her bare and sinking into her. He was well and truly caught, and surprisingly, he didn’t care. Deciding to try a steady relationship with Beth, no matter how hard it was to hash things out with talking, had been like opening the floodgates on his feelings. The relief was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Fuck, he’d let her fill out his voter ballot for the rest of their lives if it meant he got to be with her.

He sped up and eliminated most of the distance between their vehicles, following her closely as she turned off into her property and down her dirt drive. It was rutted after the storms. He’d surprise her and have his buddy Cal come out this week and scrape it smooth again with his box scraper.

She parked her car in her garage, and as he parked, he saw she’d closed the garage door soundly behind her. He got out and walked up to the front door and knocked, wondering whether she’d ignore him. Well, he wasn’t going anywhere. He knocked again, and the door swung open. Her face was calm, but her expression was expressionless, like she’d listen to what he had to say but it wouldn’t dent her resolutions.

“You can come in and talk while I unload and put away my groceries. Then you have to leave.”

He’d take whatever crumbs she left for him. He followed her into the house and headed to the garage to carry in her bags. The trunk was loaded. How much food did she buy? Turned out most of it was jarred or dry goods. Lots of different sauces with names on them he’d never heard. Packets of seasoning he had no clue how to use. He carried bags into the kitchen and she unpacked them and put the contents away.

“I should have everything put away in minutes, so if you have something to say, say it soon,” she instructed him.

He set the last four bags of groceries on the counter and leaned back, crossing his arms. He didn’t admit he was wrong often, and apologized even less.

“I want you to know I respect women.”

She looked up at him and quirked an eye. He swallowed.

“Have I ever been disrespectful towards you or any other women when we’ve been together?”

“No,” she said, after deliberately taking her time thinking it over. That was it. Okay.

“I voted for the fucker because I always voted conservative for reasons to do with taxes and stupid regulations that make it harder for me to do my job. I’m not a racist, and I’m not sexist. Well, no more than a guy can be in this,” he choked, “patriarchal society.” Jasmine might have given him a lesson in political vocabulary before she left for the day.

“The patriarchy?” She snorted. “You know what it is?”

Now she was being downright mean. It didn’t matter that he might not have cared much about how America worked in the past, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. She was determined to make his apology as difficult as possible.

“Yes, I know what ‘patriarchy’ means.”

She paused unpacking a bag to look at him expectantly.

“Basically, it means men run things and women are supposed to do what they say. I don’t agree with it.”

She looked down and finished unpacking a bag, before slanting him a look, a sly expression in her eyes.

“So, you’re a feminist now?”

Thank god, Jessica had re-educated him about that word, too. He knew feminists weren’t all angry, men-hating lesbians because his sisters called themselves feminists, but he didn’t know that men could be feminists too.

“Yep. Beth, I’ve got a mom, two sisters and a daughter. Do you think I want them to have a harder time in the world going after their dreams? Do you think I think I’m better than you because I’m a guy? Hell, no. I’m well aware women are about a hundred times stronger and smarter than most men.”

She snorted again. Okay, that might have been an exaggeration. His frustration increased as the difficulty of expressing what he thought became impossible to hide.

He couldn’t stay away any longer. He needed a physical connection. He circled the island and put his hands on her hips. He loved the way her narrow waist flared out into feminine curves. She tried to back away half-heartedly, but he held her in place. He could sense her anger draining away.

“Are men physically stronger than women? Yeah. And I like the idea of using my strength to keep you safe and take care of stuff that require lifting heavy things and getting dirty. I mean, what else does a guy have to give a woman like you?”

That seemed to crack her shell. She placed a hand on his chest, over his heart. It was good to feel her touch, but she used it to maintain a distance between them.

“Chris. You’re worth more than the things you can do for a woman physically, although those things are nice. I can’t remember a time I enjoyed hanging out, watching movies and chilling with someone more than I have with you. Ending our, us, this...” She gestured to the space between them with her free hand.

“It’s about the difference in our values. Even if you don’t think women are supposed to depend on men, you’re willing to support people who do. For me, politics are deeply personal. They always have been. When that terrible man got elected to the presidency, it was a big middle finger to all women.”

He nodded in agreement. “I fucked up, voting for him.” Beth’s eyes flared. “The first time. I can give you lots of excuses. I had lost hope in all politicians to get anything done, didn’t matter which party. I thought the guy would shake things up. All my buddies were voting for him. I was busy with several extensive projects and didn’t pay much attention to what was happening on television, on the radio. If political ads came on, I changed the channel. I’d always voted conservative, so I voted red down the party ticket. Those are explanations. I have no excuses. I know better than to vote without educating myself on the people running and the issues, and I did it anyway.”

“What about the liberal candidate, the woman? Did you dislike her? Did you buy into the whole email debacle or agree she should be locked up?”

“No fucking way. I actually hate those kinds of bullshit attacks.”

Beth looked at him, searching for the truth in his eyes, and he did his best to bare his soul.

Then he looked down. Might as well strip himself down emotionally.

“I didn’t get it until I went down to have Sunday dinner with my mom, sisters, and Jessica after the election. They were all so depressed, moping around, sort of shellshocked. My mom even burned dinner. That’s when I knew how serious the election was for women. I couldn’t even tell them I’d voted for the guy without thinking about what it meant to them at all. I might be defensive about how things turned out.”

She sighed and some of the tension eased out of her body.

“I would take back my vote if I could. I honestly don’t think any of the candidates are doing what they’re supposed to these days. There’s a lot of bullshit corruption happening in both parties. Does it mean anything I didn’t vote for him the second time?”

Beth looked up at him, shaking her head.

He started to panic. He wasn’t going to be able to talk her into giving him another chance. Then she surprised him.

“I was wrong to not give you a chance to explain. The consequences for women from the first term though…the people appointed to the courts, and the chaos allowed to spread across all the departments in the government…it isn’t going to get repaired by another leader, not in one term. It’s always more work and time to clean up a mess than it is to make it. The damage has been done.”

He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, asking for forgiveness with his caress.

“I’m fairly skilled in cleaning up messes.”

For the first time since he’d seen her in the parking lot, a smile tipped up the edges of her mouth. A small smile. He’d take what he could get.

“That mean you’re planning to run for office?”

“No fucking way.”