Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Once I laid down my emotional weapons and set aside my jealousy, I was enjoying my time with Virginia.
Outside of Brooklyn—my place and the bar—I was seeing her in a new way.
She is full of energy, hyped up on some copier incident at work, and moaning orgasmically over the best pastrami sandwich she’s ever had.
In case you are curious, it can be found at Katz’s Deli according to her.
I tell her I’ll take her to Ben’s Best back in Brooklyn. She’ll never look back after that.
I’m hoping in more ways than one.
We order another round. She adds fish and chips. “All of this food talk has made me hungry.”
I’ve been trying to figure out what it is about her that I’m falling so in . . . like, and lust with when it comes to her. “What do you like to do for fun?” I wink at her. “Other than spend time with me.”
Reaching for a rubber band she has around her wrist, she takes it and pulls her hair into one of those knots hot chicks wear everywhere these days. I like her hair down, but with it looking so messy on top like she just woke up or maybe even had sex is kind of hot.
“Hardy? Helloooo.”
Fast little hands waving frantically in front of my face bring me back to reality.
Reality? Is this my new reality? Staring at a woman who clearly wants me sexually but wants nothing to do with me beyond that.
Well, that’s an exaggeration. She’s here and our friendship is growing so I can’t say nothing to do with me.
She’s just not reciprocating what I want with her seems closer to the truth. “Yeah?”
“You asked me what I like to do for fun. Did you not hear what I said?”
“Sorry.” I rub my temples quickly before hunching down and giving her my complete attention. “What do you like to do?”
“I said,” she starts, matching my body language, “you.”
“Me what?”
“Are you really going to make me say it twice? It was hard enough the first time.”
Hard. I almost say it but I’m losing my enthusiasm for the quick comebacks. Am I losing my mojo?Virginia slaps the table. “Oh my God, am I that boring?” She’s laughing, but I can see the offense on her face.
“No. I’m sorry. I’m distracted today.”
“I’d say so. What’s on your mind? You can talk to me.”
“Not about this.”
Her mouth scrunches to the side. “Penis problems?”
Now I’m offended. “No. I don’t have penis problems. Damn woman, go for the low blow why don’t you?”
We both laugh and say, “Low blow.” She adds, “Do you like that?”
The laughter lightens, and I reply, “A blow job? I’m a guy. Of course I like blow jobs.”
“I tried to give a blow job—”
“Do I really want to hear about you blowing some guy?”
Sitting back, she’s still full of giggles, and entirely too hot looking while doing it with her breasts bouncing against the silk of her shirt. “Oh come on. You’re my teacher. If I can’t talk to you, I have no one to get advice from.”
“Don’t you have girlfriends who like to talk about their conquests?”
“No.” The laughter ceases altogether and I already miss the sound. “Other than Katie O’Dowd—”
I tap my glass on the table. “To Katie O’Dowd.”
We clink our pints together and she continues, “My friends are just as helpless as me when it comes to finding love in the city.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you’re not meant to find love in Manhattan.”
Her brow creases in the center, and she asks, “And where prey tell do you suggest I find it then?”
Brooklyn. Across the table from you. You’re staring at him. “I don’t know, but maybe love doesn’t come in the form of Lowry Renquist, lawyer extraordinaire, but comes in the form of something more obvious, something right before your eyes but you’re too blind to see.”
“Speaking of low blows . . .”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I know how you feel about Lowry. You’ve been very sweet to me. You’re looking out for my best interest and you make a valid point. I need to open my eyes and look around. There are plenty of other guys out there.”
The food arrives, and she pushes the basket between us. “Wanna share?”
Everything with you. “Thanks.”
Our time together is disappearing and when she stands, I happily help her put her coat back on. She reaches for her bag and when she stands back up and turns, we’re toe-to-toe. Resting her hands on my chest, she asks, “Why is it so easy with you?”
Easy? Interesting. The woman before me is anything but easy. “I’ve been thinking. What if—”
“Hardy Richard.”
No. No. No. No. No. I know that voice. Too well. No. No. No. No. No. Please don’t let it be her. Following Virginia’s gaze, it’s her and my heart sinks.
“Hardy. Yoohoo.”
“Hello, Isabella.”
With both her hands on my biceps, she comes in for the two-cheek kiss.
I don’t bother with either when our faces touch.
Stepping back, she looks me over from head to toe and back again.
“You’re looking well. So casual in your flannel and jeans.
” Her voice is condescending, her remarks belittling dressed in fake appreciation.
With her target in sight, she sticks her hand out to Virginia. “I’m Isabella Collins, of Connecticut.”
What the fuck is that about? “Shall I bow to thy royal highness?” Fuck this. I need to save Virginia and fast. “Actually, we were just leaving.”
Virginia accepts the handshake, and replies, “I’m Virginia Ryan of Manhattan.”Isabella looks down at my girl all bundled up and says, “A working girl.”
“You make it sound so seedy, Isabella. On that note, we must be going.” Reaching down, I grab my coat and take Virginia by the arm, whisking her away. Isabella remains standing where we left her, her mouth agape, and her hand on her hip.
“Call me, Hardy. We should get together.”
I don’t bother acknowledging her as we clear the door and walk out into the cold night air. Putting my coat on, Virginia stands close, and says, “She was interesting.”
“She’s an ex.”
“Girlfriend, fiancée, or wife?”
I hear the uptick in her tone, a tell tale sign. “Is that jealousy I hear, Ms. Ryan?”
She spins away from me, I’m sure rolling her eyes. “Not at all. You’re allowed to have as many exes as you want.” Looking back over her shoulder, she summons, and we start walking. “I’m sure there’s a whole slew of women pining over the one who got away when it comes to you.”
My face is too cold for big gestures. I shove my hands in my pockets, and laugh. “It’s freezing.”
“You realize you’re not going to throw me off track that easily, right?” She bumps into me. “You always ask about me, but I want to know about you.”
“How about coffee first?”
“Definitely coffee first.”
We walk into a Starbucks and stand in line with the other freezing patrons looking for a quick warm up. “We met at college and continued dating after for a year.” Dusting my hands together, I add, “That’s about it.” Trying to sidetrack her again, I ask, “Pastry?”
“Yes. Cranberry Bliss. It’s my favorite and is only here for a limited time during winter.” Without missing a beat, she says, “Now back up and let’s go over how you ever dated someone so uppity.”
Calling me on my shit. Check. I’ve got to hand it to her, she’s good. Very good. “I wasn’t always the laid-back handsome and extremely suave happy go lucky bartender you see before you. Oh wait, I’ve always been handsome and suave.”
“And modest. I think that’s what drew me to you.”
If I weren’t falling in love already, I’d be a goner for sure. “Yes, it’s my ‘modesty’ that brings the bees to the honey.”
“Ew, don’t use animals or insects in reference to your penis.”
I bump into her this time, and whisper, “Say it again.”
“What? Penis?”
A little louder, I continue teasing, “Yes, Virginia, just like that.”
She may be embarrassed, but her green eyes sparkle in the pastry counter lights. “Hardy,” she scolds.
I can tell she likes it though, her smile becoming harder to restrain. “Yes, Virginia, you can touch my penis when we get home.”
Frantically looking around to make sure no one heard me, she grabs me by the coat and squeezes the fabric. “Good lord, Hardy. What is wrong with you?”
“Yes, you’re so bad it’s good when you use the lord’s name in vain.”
“You are so going to hell.” Not sure if I’m going to hell for real or if she’s teasing, but either way, I like her feisty.
I slap her ass, the coat breaking the blow. “How about you take my name in vain instead? Will that get me into heaven?”
Loosening her grip, she lifts up on her toes, and whispers, “If I’m taking your name in vain, I promise you, you’re already in heaven.”
“Damn straight I am.” I’ll have to wait until I see the pearly gates. We have another lesson to learn before we get to the heaven that’s awaiting me. I wrap my arm around her waist before she can escape and kiss her.
From the line, we hear the groaning, “Move up and get your coffee or get a room.”
Virginia tucks her head against my chest, her emotions worn in the shade her cheeks turn. I lean back and tell the guy moaning behind me, “I’m working on both.”She shakes her head, but at least she’s still smiling. “Can we end the torture?”
“For you, anything.” I kiss the top of her head right before she steps up and we order.
The small leather couch in the window by the Christmas tree is open and she beelines for it. We settle down, facing each other. She takes a sip of coffee, then asks, “What made you text me today?”
“I missed you.” With my leg anchored on the cushion, I’m not even sure if she knows she’s doing it, but her hand finds its way over, her fingertips rubbing back and forth.
Dirty thoughts of those fingers rubbing something else come to mind.
Grabbing her hand, I rest mine on hers. It feels so snug, though damn cold. “Geez, you’re like an icicle.”
That breaks any mushiness that was ballooning between us and we laugh. Pulling her hand back, she says, “Yeah, sorry about that. I need to buy a pair of gloves. I lost mine on the subway a week ago.”
I take her hands back from her lap and placing them between mine, I gently rub, creating just enough friction to warm her up.
And you’re welcome. I set myself up with that usage of friction, but didn’t go there like I could have.
Holding my crude comments might be another side effect of the chemical imbalance Virginia causes in me.
Though she might consider it a positive side effect, the guys would call me pussy-whipped.
I wouldn’t consider that such a negative though either.
When her hands feel warm, I release mine, and ask, “Better?”
“Much.” Staring at me, she swallows hard and suddenly tension is present.
“What happened?”
“Why did you do that?”
“Warm your hands up?”
“Yes.”
“Because they were cold.”
With her coffee cup in hand, she turns to the window, shifting so her arm rests on the back of the sofa.
Watching the snowfall, she says, “I love the snow, the quiet, the coziness of being inside, and building snowmen.” When her gaze turns back to me, she looks sad.
“People here are too busy to appreciate the joy in the simple things.”
“I do.”
“I’m discovering that’s true. Is that the key to happiness?”
“Being content is the key to happiness. Appreciating what you have, instead of wishing you had more.”
“You ever wanted what you can’t have?”
Dragging the pad of my thumb over my bottom lip, I think about it. “Only once.”
“What do you want that you can’t have, Hardy?”
She hangs on every second as it spans between us, I look her straight in the eyes, and say, “It’s bad luck to share your wishes.”
The anticipation leaves her shoulders and she sinks against the couch. Letting her head roll to the side, she says, “I guess we should go.”
Looking at my empty cup, I nod. “Yeah, I guess.”
Out on the sidewalk, I ask, “How are you getting home?”
“Subway.”
Looking at the time, it’s almost ten. “I’d feel better if you took a cab.”
“Are you worried about me, Mr. Richard?”
“I do worry about you. I also worry about your girls and why you refuse to give them the support they want.”
“My boobs hate being trapped by that cruel underwire, so I think it’s you who hates to see them carefree and happy.”
“Trust me, there’s nothing I hate about your breasts other than guys staring at them.”
Grabbing her coat and pulling it tighter to her, she laughs. “No worrying about that in winter. Hey, before you leave, we’re still on for Saturday?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” I step closer, closing the gap. “I missed you.”
Surprised by the turn in my tone, she looks up in curiosity. “You said that.”
“I wanted you to remember it. I want it to be the first thing you think of when you think of tonight.”
Her arms slide around my middle and she squeezes as my arms come around her, holding her close. She says, “I missed you too.”
Our usual goodbye begins with getting her safely into a cab and sending her on her way. I grab a taxi to take me back to Brooklyn instead of waiting around watching her taillights disappear into the dark down the city street.
Right when I get comfortable in the back of a warm cab, I get a text from her: I miss you already.
Leaning back, I smile, then respond: I miss you too, V.