Crave (11 page)

Chapter 23

Grateful for what money can buy, I drop off the laundry and pay to have it done by five. I have plans to take Blaine on a walk. Traffic is light. Most of the seasonal residents have gone to coastal towns to gather the money that gets them through winter. Spring can be lonely in a ski town. It’s too cold to open the windows, but I pop open the sunroof and let in fresh air. It blows through Blaine’s hair with the promise of summer. We weave our way up a side road heading toward hiking trails.

“Casey, will you take me somewhere?”

“Sure, where do you want to go?

“The park beside the fire station.”

That’s the last place I would have taken him. It offers a spectacular view of Peak 6. I’m not sure what he thinks, but I prepare myself for emotional demons. Rolling to a slow stop, I push the gearshift into park. A yank of the emergency brake and I turn off the ignition. He stares at the mountain. Without breaking his gaze, he says, “Don’t come. I need to do something alone right now. I’ll be back.”

My pulse quickens. I’m afraid. A surge of adrenaline pumps through me. What is he doing? He walks behind the fire station. I roll down my window so I can listen. I hear a thunk. What? I hear another. My brain frantically tries to decipher the noise. Something is being hit. Wood. A tree? I want to go see, but he asked me not to. I have to trust him. A burst of profanity that would make Gretchen blush rushes to my ears. It is directed toward the mountain and God and anything associated with that awful day. It stops as suddenly as it starts. Fear of the unknown holds me hostage, I wait.

After what seems like an eternity, I hear gravel crunch as Blaine approaches the car. He’s fine, no blood. The door opens with a creak. He slides in and turns to me. “The alert went off just before seven.” He tells me the whole story. The panic and hope as he rushed to help. The tumultuous emotions of jamming a pole into the snow, hoping to hit Tim but hoping he didn’t. The stabbing pain he felt in his heart when a dog found a glove. And the anguish of seeing his dead friend’s destroyed body. At points he’s sobbing, but won’t take my comfort. He needs to get it out. When he’s finished, he reaches for me. His embrace is desperate, and it hurts. I let it as the tears flow.

When we return to his apartment I give Blaine the basket of folded laundry to carry up the steps. He seems to breathe in its fresh scent. Turning the key, the lock clicks to release the heavy metal door. The aroma of fresh flowers greets us. On the coffee table is an arrangement full of color. Everything is neat and clean. Blaine turns to me. “Casey?” He shakes his head and a small smile grows. “Thank you.”

I read the note set by the flowers. “Janet’s mac and cheese is in the fridge. Heat at 350 for 30 minutes. <3”

“Hungry? Macaroni and cheese can be ready in a half hour.”

He nods. “That sounds good.” He brings the clean clothes to his room.

The light reaches out to me when I open the refrigerator. Inside are fresh milk, eggs, bread, and orange juice. Underneath is the casserole. I put it in the oven I have set to bake.

I wander to the bedroom and help Blaine put clothes away. When we finish, he comes to me. Holding my shoulders, he says, “We’re playing house again.”

“I know. We do it well.” I reach up to his face and trace the outline with my finger. “Help me make the bed.”

He takes my face in his hands. His lips touch mine. Testing and once sure, he presses harder. His tongue darts into my mouth. The kiss grows deeper and a familiar flame flickers. Breaking away, I see desire smolder beneath the surface, “Stay with me tonight, Casey. I want to hold you. I want to wake up and see your face. Please don’t leave.” A hint of desperation sneaks into his voice.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

When dinner is ready, I call Blaine to the table. The buttery smell of comfort food curls up from the casserole as I dish it out. I sit myself next to him, close. I stab a noodle wrapped in stringy cheese. “Blaine, did you ever talk to the grief counselor at work?”

“No. I thought I’d be fine. I needed to take care of Clara. I didn’t have time.” He scoops up a large amount of the pasta. I think his appetite is back.

“And now what do you think?”

“I think I should make an appointment.”

I set my fork down and touch his arm. “I do, too. You lost the most important person in your life. It’s no wonder you’re having trouble getting over it.”

“Most important person? What do you mean?”

I set my fork down. “Tim had been your best friend since you can remember. He was your go-to guy no matter what. He knew all your secrets and was the one person in the world that loved you beyond unconditionally. You could tell him anything. He probably never had trouble telling you the truth about your actions. I know you felt the same way about him. He was your
person
Blaine. You would have died for him and he for you. We should all be so lucky to have someone like that in our lives.”

“Person.” He nods. “I see what you mean. Do you think Clara was his person too?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know. I know they loved each other. They were a team in many ways. But marriage is a different, complex, thing. Things like divorce happen. I don’t think you ever divorce your person.”

“Hmmm,” he says with his mouth full.

After dinner we decide to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. We settle on a light comedy. I don’t hear Blaine laugh. This is more than I can handle.

“Casey, I’m so tired. Do you mind if we go to bed?”

“That’s fine. Can I borrow a T-shirt?” Oh boy. My nerves stand on edge. Where is this going to lead? While he has been affectionate tonight, the sexy stuff had been minimal. I’m not sure why, but I hope it stays that way. I’m kind of—jealous. Jealous of how Blaine felt about Tim. I know it’s unfair, but I want him to adore me the same way.

“Sure. Come with me.” He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. Sliding open the drawer he says, “Help yourself.” As I touch each one to find the softest, he walks out and I hear the door click shut. Whew.

When I open the door, I have a view of the bathroom. Standing in just his jeans, I hear him brush his teeth. He reaches out a hand for me. Stepping onto the cool tile, heat leaves my feet. He hands me a toothbrush with toothpaste already on it. I begin to brush and look at us in the mirror. His blond, tan, California-boy looks make me think of the summer sun. He’s strong, tall, and has the athletic body of a swimmer. I look almost waif-like next to him. With willowy arms, flowing reddish curls, and pale skin, we don’t match. The look on his face tells me that’s not what he thinks. He doesn’t smile, but I sense his appreciation and feel loved. Yet I’m also uneasy. I need to get a grip. He just lost his lifelong best friend, and I’m worried that he loved him more than me? I give myself a mental slap for being so selfish.

Blaine finishes first and steps behind me. He wraps his arms around my body and pulls me back against his chest. “Look at us. You’re so beautiful in my arms. My angel.” His hot breath nuzzles my hair.

I smile, and then I spit. I turn around to face him. “Was that beautiful?”

“To me? Yes.” He takes my hand and leads me into the bedroom. He stops by the light switch, and I slide into the cool sheets. Shivering, I wait. The light snaps off, and the heat from his body radiates toward me when he climbs in. He pulls me over as I turn away. We fit together, and he lets out a big sigh. His strong body is pressed against the length of me. “Thanks for being here.” He yawns and whispers, “I love you.”

I brush my teeth. He wraps his arms around my body and pulls me back against his chest. “Look at us. You’re so beautiful in my arms. My angel.” I lean over to spit and realize I have just jammed my bottom into his thighs. The T-shirt I wear rises up high on my legs. His hands reach down to my hips, and in the mirror I see him look down. I want him to look. He runs fingers up the side of my legs and stops at the bottom of the shirt. Hands flirt with the hem. My stomach flutters. His hands stop teasing and lift the shirt over my head. I’m naked. He places his hands on either side of the rectangular bathroom sink, trapping me. His forearms ripple; as he leans down to kiss my neck, his breath tickles my ear. “Are you ready?”

Oh, my. A shiver runs down my spine. Goose bumps break out on my arms and legs. I turn to face him. He reaches down and under my thighs, lifting me up onto the edge of the sink. Pressing his body into mine, his arousal can’t be ignored. This is what I want. I reach down and unbutton his jeans. I pull the jeans apart and hear the grind of his opening zipper. Desire burns in my belly.

He steps away from me. His eyes are heavy with lust and his mouth hungry. Holding out his hand, he says, “Come with me.”

We walk out of the bathroom into a snowstorm. He steps away and pulls his jeans down over his hips. His mouth opens to speak. I hear a rumble, but don’t know what it is. An avalanche crashes into Jason, sweeping him away. I scream.

I bolt up in a panic. Trembling from head to toe, it takes me a moment to realize where I am. Blaine groans and his hand reaches for me. I take it and give it a squeeze. He relaxes into a deeper sleep.

I sneak out of bed. Soft carpet muffles the sound of my footsteps as I walk toward the kitchen. Shivering, I grab one of Blaine’s fleeces off a hook and wrap myself in it. I turn on the light and dim it. Unease settles over me as I put the teapot on the stove. The propane smell floats toward me as the gentle tick, tick of the starter ignites the flame. I jump my bottom up on the counter and scramble to my knees to get to the top shelf. Blaine isn’t a regular tea drinker, but I remember seeing it. I pull out the box. Tension Tamer, how appropriate. I sit back down on the counter and wait for the water to boil.

I decipher my dream. The sex part is a no-brainer. I have that on my mind twenty-four seven. Especially since I date Mr. First Base. The avalanche? Considering my day, that one is easy, too. The troubling piece is Jason. I can’t remember if he was in Blaine’s bathroom with me. If not, at what point did he become the man I was getting naked with? Why the hell is he in my sex dreams? The vision of the snow stealing him away is the most disturbing. My heart twinges in pain. Tears threaten just as I hear the teapot approach screaming. Steamy water pours into my cup. I drown the tea bag and force it to stay on the bottom with the spoon’s weight.

Carrying my tea, I retrieve my phone from the coffee table and sit cross-legged on the couch. I flip through until I find the last text conversation with Jason.
“At Denver airport. Found a place, thanks. Remind me to tell you what Mr. Jones said about you, lol. See you in June.”

With all that has happened in the last few weeks, I had forgotten. Jason will be here next week. Perhaps my subconscious was reminding me? I really have to talk to it because that was a horrible way to bring something to my attention.

Chapter 24

With a mug of hot chocolate, I walk into the boarding house living room. A few girls watch a reality show. Mrs. Matheson sits in her rocking chair. A ball of yarn unravels in her lap as she knits. She doesn’t watch the show, but I can tell she listens. I have a suspicion she’s more interested in the comments the girls make. I sit next to her. “What are you making?”

“I’m working on a sweater. One can never have too many cardigans in Colorado.” She looks at me over her glasses. “How is that dear boy you date? Is he still grieving over his friend?”

It’s been tough. The first few days I was afraid to leave him alone and trust him to go to the counselor. Medication and time have really helped.

Holding my cocoa in both hands, I raise it to my lips and take a small sip to check the temperature. “He’s still sad, but each day is better. They were very close and he’s taking it hard. I’m not sure how he’ll cope with skiing next year.”

“Poor dear. I’m glad he has you.” She gives her yarn a small yank.

“I’m lucky to have him.” The hot drink’s sweet flavor covers my tongue. “Mrs. Matheson, I’m looking for a new job. Clara is gone, and cleaning with other girls just isn’t the same. Do you know if Mr. Jones needs any help?”

“I think he may. We get busy in the summer with house sales and booking next year’s rentals. Would you like me to ask? You sure made an impression on him.” She chortles.

I’m a little curious what it is that Mr. Jones thinks of me but figure I may find out soon enough. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” I sit back in my chair and watch the show. It’s not very good, but my housemate’s comments are entertaining. Mrs. Matheson knows a thing or two.

***

“Miss Cassidy, it’s so good to see you again.” Mr. Jones’ beefy hands dwarf mine.

“Please, call me Casey.” I sit in the cloth chair across from his big, shiny wood desk.

He chuckles. “You are something.” He sits back in his leather chair. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a more confident young woman. You came at me locked and loaded. And gosh darn if it didn’t work. If I had had a job to give, you would have had it then and there.”

“Thank you.” I think. I don’t remember feeling confident, just determined.

“So Mrs. Matheson tells me you’re ready to move on from cleaning. Janet will miss you. She tells me you and Clara are her star players.” He folds his hands with index fingers extended and presses them against his lips.

“Janet has been wonderful to me.” I think of the casserole and food she put in Blaine’s refrigerator the day I asked for help. “Thank you for sending me to her.”

He leans forward and rests his meaty arms on the desk. “So here’s what I need. You know we get quite busy in the summer with people listing their homes to sell or rent, showing them, and booking rentals. I need someone to take the photographs of the properties and learn how to use the video camera for the online tours. How does that sound to you?”

“That sounds like fun. What are the details?” Excitement rushes through my veins.

“You fit it in with your schedule. Mrs. Matheson will keep a list of locations, and you work on checking them off the list. I pay by the job. We have all the equipment; I just need the girl.”

I have to find presentable clothes. Shopping trip. “I’m teaching skiing this winter. Is that going to be a problem?”

“I heard that. It shouldn’t be. We dry up in November. I may call on you from time to time over the winter, but I think it will fit just fine. Our agents do their own right now and can always fill in if need be.”

“Fantastic, I’ll take it.” Yes! Photographing gorgeous homes? This sounds fun.

“Excellent. Go see Mrs. Matheson to find out when you can be trained.” He stands up and walks around the desk toward me. “Casey, I look forward to seeing you around here.” He reaches out his hand and shakes mine.

“Thank you, Mr. Jones. I look forward to seeing you, too.” I do a little happy dance in my mind. And I picture how cool I’ll look with a camera around my neck.