5. The Unexpected Tingles
FIVE
THE UNEXPECTED TINGLES
Rylee
When I arrive home from work, I shove the key into the lock and twist. The TV is blaring the latest episode of whatever bachelor farmer seeking love with a rose dating reality show Marcie, my sixty-five-year-old neighbor, likes to binge watch.
Fifteen years ago, she lost her husband, Marcus, in a car accident and never wanted to find love again because he was her swan. From the stories she’s told me, his shoes would be hard to fill. Their love is one every couple aspires to and a far cry from my last. So instead of finding love again, she watches others do it on TV. I've warned her it's all scripted, but she threatened to stop babysitting if I told her any more lies. Since she lives in the apartment next to mine, doesn’t charge me, and adores Abby, I keep my mouth shut and nod and smile.
I lean over the couch and gently shake her shoulder.
She startles awake, mumbling, “DJ better not have given a rose to that bitch Tonya.”
“Hi Marcie. I’m not sure, but why are you hating on Tonya?”
She ambles to her feet and neatly folds the blanket that was covering her. “I don’t trust her. She’s too... nice.” Her lip curls on the last word.
“Well, you’ve always been extremely perceptive of people. Like when George was stealing packages. You knew right away it was him.”
“His eyes were always too shifty.”
I nod because everything about him was shifty. “Thanks again for watching Abby.”
“Anytime. You know that.”
I give her a tight-lipped smile as I walk her to the door. She’s been my saving grace since my divorce from Kyle. My life would be a hot mess—hotter mess—without her. After she leaves, I close and lock the door. With a flick of the switch, the kitchen goes dark. Then I swiftly move to power down the TV in the living room. On my way to my bedroom, I peek my head through the doorway of Abby’s room. Her soft snores fill the room as she sleeps sideways on her bed. I’ll never understand how that could be comfortable. Once I’m through the doorway of my bedroom, I kick the door shut and the latch clicks into place. I tear off my clothes and toss them into the laundry basket next to the closet. Next, I yank out a pair of sleep shorts from the dresser and grab a t-shirt from the closet. After I’m dressed, I flop on to the bed.
Over the next hour, instead of sleeping, images of Trey flit through my mind. He’s good looking. Okay, he’s fucking gorgeous, and he knows it. Nora was five seconds away from throwing herself at him. But it’s the cockiness disguised as confidence that always tricks me. My ex was the same way. Apparently, it’s my type, even though I don’t want it to be. After what feels like hours, I eventually close my eyes and fall into a restless sleep.
The buzzing of my alarm clock stirs me awake. My heavy lids drift open. I’m convinced I only got an hour, two tops, of sleep. That’s how my body feels, anyway. Reaching over, I smack the top of the clock to stop the noise. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Shit. Even after a night’s sleep, my situation isn’t any better. In fact, it might be worse. Not only am I angry at myself for thinking of Trey, but I’m also sexually frustrated because I’m thinking of Trey. It’s a wicked combination, which in turn makes me hate myself even more.
After dropping Abby off at school, I came home and did the one thing that I needed to do... work out some of this frustration. Everything was going perfectly until it wasn’t. While in the middle of executing some self-love with images of badass Jax Teller playing on repeat, out of nowhere, he morphs into Trey. Dirty blond hair turns dark, and the leather cut transforms into a three-piece suit. The most infuriating part was I had the most explosive self-served orgasm I’ve had in years. While I’m not sexually frustrated anymore, the self-loathing is very prominent.
All day at work, I was on edge. Between terrible customers, Chad screwing up the inventory again, and Trey, I was over everything including the Rylee say yes to Trey written on the blackboard behind the bar. Based on the scripty font and heart doodles, I suspect it was either Dessa or Nora, but neither would admit it. As I shot daggers at both of them, I wiped away all traces of the words.
Luckily, it was time for me to leave for the night. As I’m standing in front of my locker in the staff room, my phone vibrates against my butt. When I pull it out, Kyle flashes on the screen and my shit night just got worse.
“Hi Kyle.”
“Hey Rylee. So, I know this weekend I’m supposed to take Abby, but something came up.”
“What are you talking about? You can’t bail on her again.” I press my phone between my ear and shoulder as I yank my wallet from the small metal cage, slamming the door shut.
“I’m sorry. I have this work thing I can’t miss. But I promise to make it up to her.”
My heart thunders in my ears, causing an instant headache. Same excuse, different day. I hate that he always does this to her, and I hate that I always have to be the one to tell her. As much as I regret ever meeting Kyle and the three years I spent with him, it gave me Abby. And that’s the only good thing that happened.
“I’m sick of your excuses and I’m sick of your bullshit. You better keep your word.”
“Rylee—”
I end the call and shove my phone into my back pocket. Adrenaline races through my body. My fists clench. Everything he does irritates me. I exhale a deep breath and stomp out to the main bar area. All heads turn toward me as a hush rolls down the bar.
“Why does it look like you're about to go on a murderous rampage?” Dessa asks.
“It’s never good news when I speak to Kyle.” I stop at the corner of the bar and rest my elbows on top. “Would you guys still visit me if I were in prison?”
“Depends on where you end up.” Lach shrugs a shoulder. Dessa snaps the end of a towel on his chest, but he grabs it, snatching it away from her.
A few stools down, Trey raises his hand. “I’ll come visit, especially if you need conjugal visits. I’m pretty good with those.”
“And how many of those do you do a week?” Dessa asks.
“Okay. I’m good at practicing them. Rylee would be my first.” He leans over the bar, his gaze instantly connects with mine like the opposite ends of a magnet, and winks.
Ugh! It shouldn’t be so sexy, but my vagina really wants to wink back. With a shake of my head, my hair drapes over my face, concealing my expression from the outside world. Yet, a subtle smile creeps onto my lips. What the hell? I don't get shy or giddy, but right now I'm doing both and it's all Trey's fault. Somehow, he's implanted a tiny piece of himself in my head and oddly enough, I don’t hate it. Especially right now, it keeps the focus off my piece of shit ex. I exhale a deep breath and regain control of my thoughts. “I’m going to go home, eat a pint of ice cream, and forget that Kyle even exists. I’ll talk to everyone later.” With my wallet in hand, I stroll toward the exit.
When I’m halfway across the room, Trey jumps off his stool and meets me in front of the door. “I’ll walk you out. It’s dark out there.”
“Thanks. But I got it.”
“I insist. Plus, I’m now closer to the door than I am to my seat, so it would take more effort to go back than to leave.”
“Not really because now you have to go across the parking lot—never mind. Do what you want.” I shove the door open, and Trey follows closely on my heels. Immediately, the cool spring air does nothing for my heated skin. My stride increases with each heavy footfall. I hate that Kyle always does this. There’s always an excuse for why he can’t spend time with Abby. Mostly, I hate that because of this I’m always thinking about him.
“Slow down. Is this a race?” Trey jogs up from behind me until he’s meeting me stride for stride.
“Sorry. I’m just a little… irritated. Annoyed. Angry. I can’t believe Kyle would do this to me again. He’s the most unreliable human ever.”
“Is Kyle a boyfriend?”
Bile shoots up my throat hearing the words Kyle and boyfriend strung together. I meet Trey’s gaze. “Ex-husband.”
He releases a slow whistle. “So, a little more baggage with that one.”
I exhale, my shoulders dropping. “You could say that. He shouldn't gnaw on my last nerve, but he does. I don’t want to think about him. Just the thought of him drives me crazy. I can’t believe I wasted so many years of my life on him.” When I reach my SUV in the far corner of the dimly lit parking lot, I whirl around to face Trey. “I don’t want him occupying any more of my thoughts.”
Trey’s large but gentle palms cover both of my cheeks. Car horns blare in the distance and slowly meld into a dull hum the moment his lips touch mine. It’s soft at first, as if he’s testing the waters. Alarm bells should be blaring in my head right now, telling me I shouldn’t be kissing him, but they’re not. In fact, a rush of euphoria flows from the tips of my toes to where my lips are touching his. It’s the highest of highs and something I haven’t experienced in a really long time. His tongue sweeps over the seam of my lips. He tastes like spice and hops. A moan rumbles in the back of my throat and he deepens the kiss.
I break away, but his palms are still on my cheeks. I need a moment to gather my thoughts. Because whatever just happened should not have happened. My body shouldn’t be tingling as much as it is from that kiss. “What was that for?” I press my fingertips to my lips, the residual heat radiates to my fingers.
He rubs the pad of this thumb against my cheek. “I wanted your thoughts to be occupied with something else. Did it work?”
Dumb question. Of course it worked. My nipples are still hard because of it. But it’s Trey. I can’t be kissing Trey. Then why can’t I stop thinking about his lips on mine? And why do I want them there again?
“Fuck it,” I mumble, more to myself than him. I’m taking this one for me. With a hand around the back of his neck, I haul his mouth to mine, crashing our lips together in a bruising kiss.