Dancing in a Hurricane (29 page)

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I allowed a man to damage me, body and soul.

***

Halloween was the first night Sixto stayed home since Bree told him to leave her alone or sell his half of the house. He'd left her alone, but it was an ugly week. He'd done things he wasn't proud of. Drinking, picking fights, flirting. He hadn't gone farther than the flirting, but it felt unsettling.

Dressed in his pirate's costume, he stuck his finger through the hole Bree hadn't fixed. He grabbed a stapler from his desk drawer and fixed it. Bachelor ingenuity.

When the doorbell rang, he walked out of his room and picked up the pumpkin bowl full of candy. He opened the door. "Aaargh!"

A cute little Dora the Explorer squealed with excitement.

"Twick oh Tweet," her tiny voice called.

"Hi, Sixto," her dad said.

"Hi, Jeff." He sat on his heels. "You are the best trick-or-treater I've seen all night."

"Probably the first," Jeff chuckled. "She couldn't wait."

Sixto put three pieces of candy in her Dora backpack. "I couldn't wait either. I've had my costume on all day!"

"Me too!" the little one said, wide eyed.

"What do you say, Maddy?" her dad reminded her.

"Tank you," she called, running to the next house.

"Thanks, Sixto. See you around."

"Yep. Have fun."

He watched them cut through the hedges to the next house. He loved this neighborhood. When he went jogging, people waved, or stopped him to talk. He got invited to block parties and picnics and was asked to join the local Kiwanis club. He'd planned to live here his whole life.

He closed the door and looked down at the shoe catcher mat. A pair of Bree's sandals sat neatly next to his running shoes, which were tossed chaotically half-on and half-off the mat. He would love to see another pair of sandals, toddler size, pink, with silk flowers. And another pair of running shoes, boy's size in Batman yellow and black, dirt caked in the bottom from chasing a squirrel through a neighbor's garden.

A longing filled him, its intensity brought a burning to the back of his eyes. The bowl slipped from his hand and fell to the floor, spilling candy. What was happening? He could see himself teaching his son to play basketball. And his daughter wanted her training wheels off. Joy and panic warred within his chest—she was a miniature Bree.

He dropped to one knee and picked up the candy. Kneeling reminded him of all his childhood Sundays in church. He took a moment, quietly asking for guidance for the first time in years.

He stood, feeling slightly better, more sure of his decision. When he turned to the living room, Bree walked toward him.

All in black, high heel shoes, tight leggings and a black shirt cut low enough to show cleavage, she had a rubber cat's nose over hers and a pair of feline ears on her headband.

He smiled. "And what are you dressed up as, little girl?"

She showed her claws: long, red nails. "Me-ow."

"Cat Woman?"

"Probably just a cat. I didn't have the guts to buy a leather jumper."

He squeezed his lips together, biting back the urge to tell her he'd do damn near anything to see her in black leather, crawling across the floor meowing. "Hell." His mind slid right to kinky.

"What?"

"Hey, you look good." He hadn't covered his mistake. Her face shuttered.

"Thanks. You too, Captain."

"We had our first trick-or-treater."

"Oh. I heard the doorbell and thought it might be for me."

He pointed to the small, black purse slung diagonally across her chest. "Going out?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Anyone I know?" He made his voice sound casual, but he wanted to hear her say a woman's name.

"Well, it's a funny story." She reached behind her and adjusted her bottom.

His eyes opened wide. What was she doing back there?

She grinned and turned sideways, holding out a long piece of black faux-fir. "Tail."

"I recognize it." He didn't mean it to sound nasty, but it did.

She gave him a look.

"Your funny story?"

"I brought a box of my cherry nut squares to the lifeguard station to thank them for helping me with Tim…you know…"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Mark and I talked for a while and he asked me to go to a costume party on a friend's houseboat tonight." A smile curved her mouth.

Mark. Damn. "Do you trust him?"

"Yes, I do." Her face fell. "One of the few people I trust right now."

He looked into her somber eyes. She was talking about him. He avoided her the last few days and he wanted to explain why. He needed her to know what he was doing so she didn't think he was out chasing…tail.

"Bree, can we talk?" He stepped forward and she stepped back. Was she afraid of him?

"Not right now, okay? I just need to focus on this next phase of my life. I've got to move on, because if I don't, I'll end up—"

The doorbell rang. "Trick or treat!" young voices called.

"End up what?" To hell with Halloween. He had to know what her "next phase" was.

She looked panicked. "Get the door?"

"No, Bree, tell me. You'll end up what?" He yanked off his pirate hat. "What are you saying?"

Chapter Twenty-One

Bree stomped past Sixto and grabbed the candy bowl. "Not tonight, okay?"

She opened the door and made sweet comments about the kids' costumes.

A car pulled into the driveway, she set the bowl in the foyer and left, closing the door behind her.

"Shit." He threw his hat on the couch and pulled his hair back into a tail. Staying away from her for a week gave her the idea that he was over her, when the opposite was true. He was more into her now—today—right this second—than he ever was with any woman.

He wanted to tell her and he would have tonight. But thinking about actually saying the words out loud scared him like nothing else could. Whenever he closed his eyes, his recurring dream played out in his mind: sitting at the dining room table, he asked her to marry him and she laughed in his face. He pressed the balls of his hands over his eyes.

Could he see the woman's face? Was it Bree? "Aaaaahhhhh!" He was going to have a fucking heart attack if he didn't pull his shit together. Walking to the foyer, he picked up the candy bowl and set it on the kitchen counter. He reached into the fridge for a beer, popped the cap, and drank half. He stuck his hand into the bowl and sifted through the candy. "Where the hell are the Kit Kats?"

***

The houseboat was bigger than she expected and Mark was more fun than she imagined he'd be. Holding black plastic cups with beer, they strolled across the top deck of the boat.

He swung his arm across the bow. "That's South Beach." He looked another direction. "You live right over there."

"Where's your apartment?"

"I'm downtown." He gestured with his head to the tall buildings of Miami.

She turned and leaned back against the railing. "Why so far from the beach?"

He put his hand on the railing next to her, leaning closer. "When you worked at the hospital in Washington, did you feel a desire to have it in sight on your off hours?"

She smiled and shook her head. "I loved my job, but no, once I left for the day, that was it."

"Same with me." He looked into her eyes. "The beach is beautiful, so is the ocean. But I like to be closer to the nightlife in downtown."

Amazed that his blue eyes actually sparkled in the low light, she stared.

He stepped in front of her and bent down, brushing his lips against hers.

It wasn't unpleasant and when he moved closer and put his hand on her shoulder, she straightened and set her hand on his bicep.

He tilted his head and kissed her, a wet, nipping kiss, his tongue darting in and out as if he was afraid she would bite him. Okay, now it was unpleasant.

She tried to lead, to slow down his shooting kisses, but he had one style, The Jackhammer, and he wasn't willing to try anything new.

Bree ended the kiss. She smiled at him and he breathed hard through his mouth. Evidently, it was a hot experience for him. She took a drink of her beer to wash the taste of him out of her mouth. Maybe it was just too soon for a kiss. They barely knew each other.

"More beer?" he asked.

"Sure." She handed him her cup.

"I'll be right back."

She walked to the corner of the railing and leaned over, looking down into the shallows. A breeze blew the fetid smell of the water away every few minutes. Yuck. How did they live with that day and night? She shivered. Even yuckier, could she live with Mark's odd style of kissing day and night? Another shiver. But kissing wasn't everything. And neither was sexual attraction. Just because a man didn't light her fire with each glance, she shouldn't write him off immediately.

Sixto in his costume—wow—talk about lighting her fire. His hair hung long and thick and the black biker boots he improvised into the costume had her biting her lip. When he stepped toward her, she jumped back, afraid that if he came any closer, she'd grab him and…yup, right there on the floor, end her celibacy. With a pirate.

So she ran, got out of the house before she became what she promised herself she would never become: "just sex."

He seemed anxious to talk to her. Had his week of sleeping around helped him make up his mind about selling her the house? He probably wanted to set a price and get the paperwork started so he could begin looking for a place of his own. Somewhere he could have women over without fear of an idiot roommate causing a ruckus. A sob escaped her throat and her eyes filled with tears. How could she say goodbye to him?

Voices carried on the evening breeze and she pinched her tear ducts to stop the flow. "Oh, God." She was going to lose it. She was going to lose him.

"No." She grabbed the railing with both hands and stared up at the stars. She couldn't worry about it tonight. Tonight, she'd drink and party and have a goddamn good time, even if it hurt.

Mark walked up behind her, talking. "Guys, I want you to meet Bree."

She turned and saw four perfectly sculpted men, three with dates.

"Bree, these are the guys on my crew. You remember Larry from the tower?"

"Of course, nice to see you again." He'd been on the beach the day Tim attacked her.

Mark introduced Larry's girlfriend, the other single guy, and two other couples."

Larry held up a bottle of Patron Silver tequila. "Shots anyone?"

Mingled hoots of interest and cries of "no way" made her smile. Tequila, love it or hate it.

Mark looked at her. She shrugged. "Sure." Anything to take away the pain.

He smiled and took two Dixie cups from Larry and handed one to her.

"Kowabunga!" one of the men said and they all repeated it and drank. The tequila tasted smooth and burned a pleasant path down her throat. They dedicated the next shot to their fallen co-workers, so she had to drink.

Pretty soon, it was three in the morning, her tail was gone, and she could no longer walk in her heels.

Mark drove her home, silent the entire way. Either he could handle liquor better than she could, or he wasn't drinking as much, but he seemed pissed. He pulled into her driveway and helped her out of the car, picked up her shoes from the floor and walked her to the front door.

"Thanks Mark. And I'm sorry I got so loaded."

He held out his hand. "Keys?"

"Oh, right." She snicked open her little purse and dug around. She laughed, "It's-shuch a tiny purse, you wouldn't think I'd lose anything…" She dropped the key, it clattered on the marble landing. "Whoopsie!"

Mark picked it up and opened the door for her, gave her the key, and took her elbow. Handing her into the house, he said, "Lock the door, okay? I'm going to stand here and listen for you to lock it."

"Okay. I had a blast." She expected him to move in for the kiss.

He stepped back. "I'm glad you had fun. Now close the door and lock it."

He wasn't even going to try? She waved at him, shut the door, and turned both locks. "Locked." Silence. She dropped her shoes and watched him through the sidelight as he walked to his car, backed down the driveway, and speed away. He didn't say anything about calling her. Or going out again. Or how much fun
he
had.

Tripping into the living room, she mumbled, "Big grumpy jerk."

"It's three o'clock." Sixto's voice from the couch startled her.

"Sixto! What are ya doin'?" She stopped behind the couch, holding a hand over her racing heart.

"Waiting for you." He sniffed loudly. "You smell like a brewery."

"Thanks. It's my new perfume, guar-nteed to attract men." She pulled off her cat ears. She'd slingshot her nose onto a neighboring houseboat hours before.