Winter Jacket: Finding Home (29 page)

“Fine,” Troian sighed. “Who’s my first victim?”

My gaze trained on the front door as I waited for a new customer. The muscles in my jaw clenched when I recognized the next person to enter Del Sol. “Shit. She’s here.”

“Who?”

“Hunter.”

I watched her step into line at the front counter. Her attention was focused on the chalkboard behind the baristas, which announced that morning’s special coffee blends. Her hair was in its usual ponytail, and she wore salmon-colored scrubs. 

Troian audibly yawned. “Did you really expect to avoid her until the end of time?”

“No. But I at least hoped to not look like I just rolled out of bed when I saw her,” I said tersely. I tugged my hair free from its bun and raked my fingers through my damp hair. Luckily I’d at least showered that morning, but I hadn’t done much beyond that.

“Are you going to acknowledge her or pretend you didn’t see her?” Troian asked.

I didn’t have time to make a decision. Hunter was walking pointedly in my direction. I clutched onto my phone like a lifeline.

“What’s going on?” Troian complained in my ear. “You wake me up just to make me listen to your breathing, Darth Vader?”

Hunter stopped in front of me, a cardboard cup of coffee in her hands. “Hi,” she greeted.

“Hi,” came my unoriginal response.

“
Shit son
,” I heard Troian’s voice. “
Nice response
.”

“You don’t look surprised to see me,” I remarked.

“I heard you were back,” she said. “For good, apparently.”

“You did? From who?”

“Leah. She said you were in the bar the other night.”

“Yeah. I was thirsty.”

Leah’s words about seeing Hunter at the bar nagged at my insecurities, but I remained silent. 

“The new semester just started, didn’t it?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” I confirmed.

“How was your first day back?” 

“It was good, thanks.” 

I could hear the dull, uninspired words coming out of my mouth, but there was nothing I could do. If we had been characters on the show and I’d been writing the dialogue, Troian would have scolded me and assigned me a Page One Re-write.

“I’m glad.” She tugged on her ponytail and looked toward the exit. “I should get going or I’ll be late. It was nice to see you though.”

“Yeah,” I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “You, too.”

In my ear, Troian echoed my brain’s response: “
You blew it
!”

+ + +

I might not have been prepared to see Hunter that morning at Del Sol, but I was determined to do better the next time I saw her. The deli in the quaint downtown area, steps from campus, made the best Italian sandwich I’d ever had. I also happened to know that it was a favorite of Hunter’s, too. What I didn’t know was if she would have time to take a lunch break, but even if not, she could always have the sandwich later. I only wanted her to know that I was thinking about her.

I drummed my fingers on the top of the reception desk in the central lobby of the hospital and forced a tight smile to my lips.

“Is she expecting you?” the woman seated behind the nurse’s desk asked.

“No. Does that matter?” I worked to keep my tone light.

I recognized the woman as one of Hunter’s friends from the university’s nursing program, but I couldn’t remember her name. What I did remember, however, was that she had an unrequited crush on Hunter, not that I could blame her. I wondered if she remembered me from the house party, the only other time we’d met. She’d been completely wasted and nearly incoherent by the time I’d shown up to the party.

I looked toward a set of opening double doors and spotted Hunter in her nurse’s uniform. Her steps paused when she saw me at the reception desk. “Twice in one day,” she remarked, head tilted to one side. “How did I get so lucky?”

I pushed aside my nerves and misgivings. I didn’t want to appear too pushy or eager even though she was right—we’d just seen each other a few hours ago.

I held up the distinctive wax deli bag. “Have time for lunch?”

A small smile appeared on her kissable mouth, and any earlier doubts I’d had about showing up unannounced disappeared.

The hospital’s cafeteria was a large room with high ceilings and abundant natural light. Although it was just after the lunch hour, few people populated the room. Hunter and I sat at one of the empty round tables in yellow plastic chairs with our sandwiches and deli chips spread out in front of us.

“You look good,” she said.

“No,” I deflected. “You do.”

She smiled and shook her head. “I’m a mess. I’ve been running around all shift.”

“You still look good,” I shrugged.

She reached across the table and touched the ends of my hair. “Did you get highlights? You look more blonde than usual.”

I had fussed all afternoon trying to get my waves to behave. “No. It’s just from the sun.”

She made a thoughtful noise and pulled back her hand. “Hmm. Well, California looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” I felt encouraged. She had always been polite, to a fault, but she was being touchier than I could recall.

“Mrs. Grace next door says hello, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

“You made quite the impression on her.”

“I wanted to help out,” she shrugged. “If I were in her situation, I know I’d wish for the same.”

It wasn’t fair. She said and did all the right things. She was beautiful and kind and humble and gracious. I didn’t know what I’d ever done to deserve her once upon a time. Maybe I could never recreate that magic, and we’d remain like this with me wistfully pining to be a part of her life again.

I took a large bite of my sandwich, and its insides spilled out the sides of the Italian bakery roll.

“You’re a mess,” she laughed. She swiped the pad of her thumb at the corner of my mouth. Her hand froze there as though she’d been acting on reflex and hadn’t intended to be so hands on. Her hand fell away from my mouth and returned to her lap. I averted my gaze, unwilling to witness the discomfort on her face.

“What are you doing right now?” she asked. “Do you have to run off right away?”

I wiped my mouth with a paper napkin. I had lesson plans to work on for my new classes, but they could wait. “I’ve got time.”

She rose from her chair. “Are you finished with that?” Not waiting for my answer, she cleared the table of napkins and the remnants of our sandwiches.

When she’d bussed the table and had thrown everything away, she grabbed my hand. “There’s something I want to show you.”

I let her lead me out of the cafeteria and down a wide corridor. I lost track of the directions because she was holding my hand. It hurt my heart how well our fingers locked together.

“What is it that you want to show me?”

She didn’t answer me. Instead, she held her identification card in front of a built-in access panel on the wall. I heard a lock click open and the red light in the electronic panel flashed green. She opened the heavy, windowless door and pulled me inside with her.

An overhead light flashed on, triggered by the movement of our arrival. I quickly took in our surroundings. There were wall shelves stocked with bottles of rubbing alcohol and iodine and boxes of other hospital supplies like gauze and athletic tape. A utility sink was attached to one wall and a mop in a yellow, wheeled bucket was propped up in the corner. I couldn’t imagine what she wanted to show me in a supply closet. I opened my mouth to say as much, but her hands fisted the front of my shirt, and she kissed me before I could get out the first questioning syllable.

I didn’t pause to think about what was happening or to question why. Instead, I cupped her face in my hands and returned her kiss. She immediately accepted my tongue in her mouth and a quiet moan vibrated in her throat. When she bit down on my lower lip, I tried to focus on the feeling of her pinching teeth instead of the knowledge that anyone with a hospital identification card could walk in on us. I sensed the storage closet wasn’t in a high traffic area, however, or she never would have brought me there.

She had made the first assertive move, but I soon switched positions, pinning her against a wall and shoving her shirt up to expose her stomach and breasts. I ran my palm over her flat abdomen and lightly scratched down her stomach. Her pale, flawless stomach begged for attention, but I had something else in mind.

I slipped my hands beneath the underwire of her bra and rolled her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. She gasped at my aggressive lead. I pushed up the cups of her bra, and her breasts fell free. I hefted their equal weight in my hands, brushing the pad of my thumbs against her hardening rosy nipples.

With me in heeled boots and she in her nurse’s flats, I was a few inches taller than her. I dipped my head and took a pebbled nipple between my lips. Her fingers tangled in my hair and she held me tight to her chest.

“God, I missed this,” she sighed. Not releasing her breast, I grunted in agreement.

I pulled at the drawstring that held her scrubs aloft her hips and watched with mounting anticipation as the knot unraveled. I hooked my fingers under the waistband and shimmied her cotton pants and underwear past her hips.

She made no attempt to stop me or make me slow down when I fell to my knees in front of her. I typically used more finesse or at least employed a modicum of foreplay, but I didn’t have the patience for that. I wanted to taste her.

I grabbed onto her upper thighs and parted her pussy lips with my tongue. The hand that had held me tight against her breasts as I had toyed with her nipples now pressed me into her sex as I flicked the tip of my tongue against her clit. I grabbed onto the back of her knee and repositioned her leg so it was thrown over one of my shoulders. I sat up on my knees, lengthening my torso, forcing her leg into the air, and opening her more to me.

I teased her dripping hole with the tip of my middle finger, collecting her arousal and spreading it along her hairless slit. I pushed up, sliding my finger inside to the first knuckle. I stopped licking and sucking on her clit long enough to watch my finger as it sank the rest of the way inside.

A beeping alarm of some kind went off in the closet, close to my ear.

“No, no, no,” she growled at the noise. “Someone’s paging me.”

“We have time.”

“Are you su—oh, God,” she groaned when I bottomed out and curled my finger against her spongy g-spot.

“I can be quick,” I promised.

I set a deliberately measured pace, slowly drawing my middle finger all the way in and all the way out. My words said one thing, but my pace indicated something else.

She quietly whimpered and gripped the top of my shoulder. “Please.”

I continued the slow, arduous attack, nuzzling my nose against her clit. “Please what?” I asked with mock innocence.

Her nostrils flared with irritation. “You of all people should appreciate my need to not be late.”

“You’re right.” I knew the ignored page was weighing heavily on her mind.

I should have stopped and used the interruption as a guarantee that I’d see her later in the day, but my ego got in the way. I wasn’t going to start something I couldn’t finish. I emptied my brain of curiosities about if I was the only person she’d ever done this with. If I wasn’t though, I was going to make for damn sure that I was at least the best.

I sucked her clit into my mouth and thrust faster and harder into her. Her insides were warm and wet, and I quickened my pace.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. Memory of the page slipped from her mind or she no longer cared. “Just like that,” she encouraged.

My bicep burned and my knees ached from kneeling on the solid floor, but I continued to push her closer to orgasm knowing that it wouldn’t be much longer.

The hand on my shoulder tightened and her mouth fell open. “Fuck,” came the strangled curse. Her pussy clenched around my single finger. “I’m almost there.”

When I dug my canines into the tender flesh of her inner thigh, she gasped in a mix of surprise and pain. “I’m cumming.”

I slowed my pace, but I returned to gently licking her outer lips while she rode out her orgasm. I used the insides of her quaking thighs to wipe the arousal and saliva from my cheeks. Only when her body had stopped shaking did I finally withdraw my finger.

I looked up at the woman I’d efficiently dismantled. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted. Her pants and underwear remained around her ankles and her shirt and bra had been shoved out of the way without being properly removed. I grinned at my handiwork. She looked perfect, even disheveled.

Hunter rearranged her bra beneath her nurse’s top. “Well that was unexpected.”

“Was it?” I helped pull her underwear up and kissed her clit through the material, which caused her hips to jerk forward. “I can’t imagine what other reason you had for kissing me in a supply closet.”

I had her scrubs halfway up her legs before she grabbed the waistband and pulled them the rest of the way up. “I don’t think I expected it to go that far though. Not that I’m complaining.”