Guns Will Keep Us Together (14 page)

"Why?" Dammit! What the hell was wrong with me? It was like having an out-of-body experience—one where I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to.

For a moment, I thought I'd pushed her too far. Maybe if she thought about it too much, she'd realize she wasn't attracted to me. What have I done?

"I find your vulnerability endearing." She said quietly with a smile. "I love how you get tongue-tied around me, as if I was the first woman to do that to you. You make me feel like I'm the most desirable person in the world."

For a moment—just a moment—I thought she was insulting me. Vulnerable? Tongue-tied? That wasn't me! I was suave and worldly. Did this mean she didn't see that?

"Dak," Leonie pulled me against her. "I want you. Don't ruin it."

Leonie's lips were soft on mine. All of the sudden, I forgot what to do! A sense of panic hit me, and it felt like the room was spinning. She seemed calm. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe I needed to lie down.

"Why don't we take this into the bedroom?" Leonie whispered in my ear. I did one of those cartoon "GULP"s and nodded. We walked into what had once been my playboy lair. Now it seemed like an alien room with furniture I didn't even recognize.

Leonie kissed me, then abandoned me to use the bathroom. I stood there, frozen to the spot where she left me, unable to think of what to do. Shit! This had never happened to me before! Think, Dak, think!

I was still standing there when Leonie returned and wrapped her long arms around me, pulling me into a kiss. I'm not certain how she managed that, since my head was spinning on my neck like a top. What was it with this chick? I was completely messed up!

What happened next was a blur. There was a whole host of sensations involving hands, fingers, lips and tongues. The outside of my body was performing, but my innards felt like the inside of a lava lamp. I barely remember our clothes coming off, or slipping beneath the sheets. All I could see where those hypnotic grey eyes framed by a cloud of silky, red curls. I hoped she'd know what to do. I'd forgotten what happens when you get a naked man and a naked woman together.

Leonie guided my body into hers, and I felt a surge of crushing emotion. What was this? It was as if all my organs has swollen up with helium, and I was about to take flight.

Oh my God. I had to stop this. I had to channel George Clooney instead of Woody Allen. That very idea turned it around.

I started to take control of the situation, like I used to. From my position on top, I kissed her lips, then her chin, slipping down to the lovely notch of her long, pale throat. Leonie sighed, and I became bolder. I wanted to make this night memorable, not come across as a bungling fool.

My lips sought the cleft between her perfect, small breasts, and I nuzzled each nipple until she moaned beneath me. It felt so good to make her feel good—something I'd never noticed before. Cupping her shapely ass, I found her sweet spot. It only took a few moments to make her come, and it was so good for her, it felt like I'd climaxed too.

Leonie flipped me over, climbing on top, and once I was inside her, she began to rock back and forth, never taking her eyes off of mine. I winced as I realized I'd never thought of my past lovers as people. Shoving that aside, I closed my eyes against the intensity of her gaze before my orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave.

I felt so terrified and wonderful, I started to cry. Yup. You heard me.

The more I tried to stop, the faster the tears came. I lay there, on my back, arms around Leonie—whose hair covered my chest, and wept. The intensity of what happened stunned me. And I didn't know what the hell to do.

Fortunately, Leonie fell asleep, and I just lay there, wondering what was happening.

 

 

 

 

 

The deep, homey tang of bacon teased me awake. I was naked and alone in bed, but someone was making breakfast. This I understood—recognizing the smell of meat and knowing that a woman was here.

I reached for my robe, but it was gone. After fumbling in my drawers for pajamas, I wandered into the hall toward the kitchen.

"'Morning!" Leonie called out brightly as she flipped the eggs and bacon simmering in front of her. My robe hung from her slight frame, but it looked incredibly beautiful against her pale skin. She resembled a china doll dressed up in silk.

"Hey." I kissed her awkwardly and poured a cup of coffee. "How long have you been up?"

I've never been good at the morning-after thingy. In fact, unless there was an opportunity for follow-up sex, I usually rushed them through the shower and out the door so I could get on with the next conquest. But this morning was different. This morning, I wanted her to stay.

"Not long. I was hungry. I hope you don't mind." She pushed a spiral strand of copper curls from her forehead.

"Of course not. I love having you here." Oh my God. It was true. I wanted her here for more than sex! Well, that and she was making bacon. Show me a man who'd turn that down.

"Your family is amazing," Leonie said as she brought two plates to the table and sat down to eat. "Especially Louis."

I grinned. "Yeah. He's pretty adorable."

"I love your sister and cousin. Gin? And Liv? Is her name really Gin Bombay?" She giggled, giving me goose bumps.

"It's really Virginia or Ginny. But we pretty much shortened it to Gin over the years. It's much funnier that way."

Leonie paused, holding her coffee cup. "I have a question that I hope doesn't offend you." She waited for me to nod before continuing. "It's just that I noticed you introduced Gin's husband as Diego Bombay. Isn't that your name too?"

Well, at least she didn't say anything about the dagger-throwing competition at the barbeque, or why there's a huge keypad in the kitchen locking up Gin's basement. This was one of the Bombay family quirks I could clue her in on.

"It's a weird little requirement in my family. If you marry a Bombay woman, you have to take her name. It's been that way since 2000 B.C. None of the men seem to mind." I shrugged, "I guess I never really thought about it before."

Leonie held my gaze for a moment. "Well, I think it's really cool. Apparently your family is more progressive than most."

Yeah. We were progressive all right. As long as if you mean by progressive that we kill people we don't know for money. "So, you got along with everyone?" That was a weird question. Like I was interviewing her for a job.

"I did. They are really terrific. You are so lucky."

I sat back as she took a few bites of her breakfast. I guess she was right. I usually did think I was lucky to be born rich and unfairly attractive. I just never associated the word
luck
with my family before.

"And your son, Louis, I adore him!" Leonie giggled. "I've never met a kid like that before."

"Yeah. If it wasn't for the DNA test, I'd think he wasn't related to me at all." Oops.

Leonie arched her right eyebrow. "DNA test?" Uh-oh.

I sighed and told her everything about my short acquaintance with my son. For some reason, I told her everything, warts and all. I didn't even try to make myself sound better. I made a mental note to make an appointment with a neurologist tomorrow.

"Wow," she said softly. "That's a lot for a little kid to handle."

I nodded and realized that for once in my life, I was agreeing with her instead of saying, "What about me? It was tough for me too!"  

"And the family made you take the test? That's pretty cold."

"Well, it's really my grandmother who pushed for it. I did it just to keep her happy. I knew Louis was mine." Or at least, I wanted to believe Louis was mine.

"So, fill me in on everyone. What they do, what they're like, that kind of thing," Leonie said as she curled her legs up under her. I launched head first into a panic attack. According to custom (which was strictly enforced), Bombays didn't tell their spouse about the family until after they were married and before the first family reunion.

"Enough about my family—how about you? What's your family like?" Oooh. Smooth.

Leonie considered my question for a moment as she chewed the last of her bacon. "Well, I guess you'd say we're a bit unconventional."

Unconventional? I thought I had the market cornered on that.

"Oh yeah," I remembered, "the family funeral home. You must have had an unusual childhood."

"It was. But for some, morbid reason, I likeed it. We grew up with a strange sense of gallows humor. My dad's brother is also in the business. We have the largest funeral home in the state, back home."

I reached for the toast. "So, why did you want to break out on your own?" Was that too personal?

She shrugged, "I don't know. I guess I'm just kind of different from the rest of the family. They're more traditional. I never really fit in." She popped some more eggs into her mouth, and I got the impression that this line of conversation was over.

We spent the rest of breakfast talking about mundane things. The conversation wasn't memorable, but it had such an overwhelming sense of wonder to it.

While she was in the shower, I thought about everything. The way she made me feel—like I'd known her forever. The surge of emotion when we made love. How easily she fit in with my family. How much she loved my son. What started as a rush, slowly became a panic. By the time we were dressed, I was beginning to sweat again. Mental note—check the thermostat to see if it's set for "hell."

"I'm sorry, Dak," Leonie said with a frown, "I just got a call from the funeral home. Can you take me back to my car?"

I expelled a huge sigh of relief. For some reason, I wanted her to go and stay at the same time. But I needed time to get my head together. I parked in front of my sister's house and walked Leonie to her car. She kissed me and winked as she jumped in and drove away.

I don't know how long I stood there on Gin's front lawn, staring after Leonie. I'm pretty sure it was a while, and that I would still be standing there, had Louis not tackled me from behind. Gin waved me into the kitchen.

"Are you okay, mate?" Diego handed me a Diet Coke, and I nodded.

Gin was twittering nonstop about how wonderful Leonie was. I just sat there, mired in confusion. She didn't seem to notice.

"What is wrong with you?" Gin finally sat down next to me at the kitchen table.

"Huh? What do you mean?" I felt unstable. Kind of like I was homesick for…what?

"You haven't said a word." Gin frowned. "Oh no! You're not breaking up with Leonie!"

"What?" I jumped. "No! I'm just, just a bit overwhelmed right now."

Diego nodded, "That makes sense. You got a new son, a big job from the Council and a new girlfriend. That's a lot to deal with."

I looked at him. He was right. There was a lot on my plate. All of it was good individually, but together they twisted my insides mercilessly.

"At least the E.D. problem is over." Maybe that was one less thing to worry about.

"So why were you standing on my lawn for twenty-five minutes this morning, watching the road?" Gin grinned.

"You've got it bad, my friend," Diego said softly.

I looked at him. Diego understood, probably more than I did. Last night felt like a triumph and a disaster at the same time. I had the feeling that a huge tidal wave was about to crush me at any second. And for a moment…just a moment, I thought it might be a good idea if it did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine."

~R.E.M.

 

 

I know this is going to sound stupid, but I spent the rest of the day feeling really, really bad and really, really good at the same time. Gin and Diego kept me company in the backyard while we watched Louis and Romi play. No one spoke, which was good, because I had no idea what to say.

For the moment, I was hung up on the fact that I cried during sex. What did that mean? Shouldn't I just be grateful I was able to have an orgasm? But the idea of tears streaming down my face made me feel vulnerable and lost. Gin watched me with some interest. Every time she started to speak, Diego shushed her. He's a good man.

Was I in love with Leonie? Oh my God. What was happening to me? Maybe I wasn't in love with her. Now, that thought hurt more.

I sat there for hours like that. Gin fed me lunch, then supper, then asked if I was spending the night. I looked at her like she was speaking Swahili.

"Let's go home, Dad." Louis tugged on my sleeve. "
Survivor
is on, and we need to order pizza."

Oh, right. Our little ritual. Yes. We should do that. As we walked out the door, I had another panic attack. I had a weekly ritual. With my son!

 

 

  

"You know what, Dad?" Louis looked at me very seriously, and I tried not to smile at the pizza sauce smeared on his chin.

"What's that?" I wiped his face then pulled him a little closer.

"Well," he started, "I think we need to spend more time together." Louis raised his small hands to protest the words he thought would come—and if I wasn't so shocked, I might have said something. "I mean, I know my arrival was inconvenient and that you have consulting work to do and all, but I can see that you and Leonie are getting serious, and I want to make sure you and I get to know each other too."

I sat there for a while, speechless. My son had just told me he wanted to be with me. And while that should've made me feel great, he also said his arrival in my life was inconvenient and that he wanted to be as important as Leonie was. The sheer weight of this six-year-old's words crushed me like an aluminum can.