Chapter 10
Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood. You sure are lookin” good. You”re everything a big, bad wolf could want. ~Sam The Sham The Pharaohs.
Axel
Fuck. What was I thinking? My hand should never have drifted to her knee. In all fairness, she appeared so damn vulnerable, the need to reassure her overwhelmed me.
My internal Neanderthal, who dictates the flow of blood to my cock disagrees. I read her body language, dude. She wants you.
Homo Erectus shuts him down. That may be true, but she needs time to admit her attraction.
The clouds grow dark, thunder grumbles, andasa deluge of water falls from the sky, I switch on my windshield wipers.
While I focus on the road, my suspect points to a fast food joint. “Can we stop for something to eat? I’m starving.”
In my rearview, Bear’s ears perk up. “Woof.”
A wave of guilt overcomes me when I realize she’s had nothing but a sweet bun since early last night. Dammit, my dog fared better.
I’m about to suggest we grab dinner at my house until I recall my empty refrigerator. “My favorite diner’s nearby. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure.” She flips down the sun visor, frowns in the mirror, and opens her purse. “Mind if I turn on the light?”
“No, go ahead.” Mesmerized, my half-chub swells as she applies red lipstick and brushes her hair.
Thank God for the stoplight. Otherwise, a lack of oxygen to the brain could’ve caused an accident.
Heaving a sigh, I pull into the restaurant’s parking lot. “Wait here.”
Thankfully, she doesn’t argue, which gives me time to adjust my pants. After I let Bear out of the back, I open her door. Because of her earlier reaction to my touch, I keep my hands on the leash instead of reaching to the curve of her lower back.
Inside, the hostess, whose name I can’t remember, pats my grinning pal before sidling up to me. “Hey, Axel honey. Regular table?”
The five-foot, bleached-blond scowls at Gwen, returns her gaze to me, and I nod.
“Here ya go.” Winking, she passes me the menus, bumps her ample breasts against my shoulder, and struts toward the patio with us in tow.
“You need anything at all, you call me, y’hear?” The sexual innuendo flies over Gwen’s head, busy sopping up rainwater from our plastic chairs.
I sit and push aside the pile of wet napkins. “The hostess is not my girlfriend.”
My lovely suspect pats my dog, studies the menu, and feigns disinterest. “Do I care? Did I ask?”
Oh, her shrewish mouth. When I finally get her to bed, I will make sure it only opens to beg me for more.
With dirty thoughts flooding my mind, my johnson hardens, and I curse under my breath. Seduction is a slow route, not a NASCAR race, dude. Down, dammit.
Unaware of my internal struggle, Guinivere orders a chef salad, and I get a burger. We reach for the salt simultaneously, and lightning cracks.
As if burned, she snaps her hand back. “Sorry.”
When her eyes lift to mine, I almost confess what my boss demanded of me. Seduce her if you must. I cannot and will not allow my stupid third leg to dominate my life.
We eat in silence. Then, she sets her fork down, wipes her mouth, and clears her throat.
“Yes?” Taking a risk, I lift my gaze and am sucked into the vortex of her stormy brown eyes.
“Listen, Wulf. Let’s get something straight between us. And by something, I do not mean your manly appendage. We’re adults. Sexual attraction happens. Nevertheless, this does not mean we need to act upon it. Understood?”
Damn the woman for her bluntness. Caught unprepared, I search for an adequate response and come up lacking. “What? No. God no. I would never. Sorry if you got such an impression.”
Her face bright red, she points her finger at me and raises her voice. “I know what you’re about, Mr. Big Bad. My husband had a black belt in gaslighting, and I have spent a fortune learning how to defeat it.”
As I open my mouth to rail against the comparison to her ex, our waitress returns. “Anyone want dessert? I highly recommend our key lime pie.”
“Perfect choice. We’ll both have a slice.” Gwen grins, but not in a comical way, more like the Chesire Cat.
“What’s so damn funny?” I hate my petulant tone. Goddammit. She’s driving me to the brink of insanity.
Snickering, she wipes her sexy lips and smudges red lipstick on the only dry napkin. “In eighteen-thirty-four, Sylvester Graham promoted a diet which suppressed sexual desires. The crust of the dessert we ordered is made of his crackers. Most apropos, wouldn”t you say?”
I may never eat smores again. It”s time to change the subject. “Tell me about your daughter, Abigail.”
Her face lights up, and the sun comes out. “She’s five going on thirty. We do everything together. Her father has her for the summer, and I miss her like crazy.”
Interrogation back on target, I fire off my next question. “I presume this is why you rented a place close by?”
“Yes. I don’t believe my ex is a capable caregiver, but the judge disagreed. Thus, we have joint custody. Rather than move her back and forth every weekend, We decided he should have her until the fall. It’s hard, though. I miss her so much.” The brunette swallows hard, blinks back tears, and shows me a video of her kindergartener swinging in a city park. Like her mom, the child has dark curls and giant chocolate eyes. The most significant difference is the attractive mix of Mid-Eastern and American features.
“She’s beautiful, like her mother.” I commit the girl’s face to memory before returning the cell phone.
“Thanks. She’s brilliant, too. Farid promised to keep up with her reading, but I doubt he’ll take the time.” While my suspect beams, I wonder what will happen to her kid if Gwen goes to jail.
Dammit. McGee needs to confess and take a plea deal.
Lovely eyes lose focus as she stares at the Colosseum mural on the back wall. “Farid told the judge my long workday made me an unfit parent, but it’s not true. I have a nanny and often work from home. We dance, we bike, we sing, and we read. I always put my daughter first.”
“How in God’s name did you ever end up married to Farid Parisi?”
She shakes her head. “We met in college. He was so different then. No, let me start over. It was all an act. The minute we got married, his true stripes showed. I couldn’t do anything right. It started small. The laundry wasn’t folded correctly. His meal was cold. By the time Abbie was born, I could do nothing right. Wait. Let me rephrase that. He claimed I was incompetent. When I stood my ground, he insisted I was overly emotional and threatened to have me institutionalized.”
I tamp down the urge to strangle the motherfucker and ask through gritted teeth. “How did you manage to break free?”
“I owe everything to Callie. She introduced me to a shrink who helps abused women and insisted I speak to her. Under her guidance, I began to understand what was happening to me, or rather, what Farid was doing to me. Thank God she testified in my divorce. Otherwise, the jerk might’ve gotten full custody.” Her story tugs at my fucking heartstrings and makes me want to protect her from him forever.
Perhaps I can do one better and connect him to the arms sale. “I read your ex-husband is Iranian?”
“Yeah, but recently, he’s been estranged from his family and wants nothing to do with them.”
As I pay for our meal, I make a mental note to research him when I get back online. Back in the car, I drive past hundreds of row houses in Columbia Heights. Circling the block three times, I find a parking spot. After I inch forward and back multiple times, I squeeze between two SUV’s. Then, I jump out, walk her down the sidewalk, and up three slate gray cement steps into my white brick building. “This way.”
Passing through the door to the left, we climb the stairs and enter my two-room dwelling.
Her eyes pop out of her head as she walks between the stacks of cardboard boxes. “Did you recently move?”
My face heats, and I shrug. “Nah. I haven’t bothered to unpack. I’m never home.”
“No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” Lord have mercy, the woman has no internal filter whatsoever. She blurts whatever is on her mind, consequences be damned. If she wasn’t so darn annoying, I might find her refreshing.
Having not slept for two days any flat surface will do. I drop onto my rug, grab a pillow off the couch, and glance up. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
While she showers, I call my boss and update him. As I’m about to pass out, her voice sounds from the other room. “Hey, Wolfman?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d be willing to share. Your king-sized mattress has plenty of room.”
Jesus Lord have mercy. My cock, which had finally stopped throbbing, jumps back to life. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
She chuckles. “It’s not so much fun when I do it, is it?”
Punching my pillow, I turn over and ignore her light-hearted laughter.