Chapter 5
FIVE
MOLLY
“You have to be kidding. He really did that?”
My throat swells, and I have to clear it twice before I can finish telling Angela about what happened last night.
“No joke,” I say, my voice thick. “He gave Pigeon her fluids with the skill of a vet tech who’s done it thousands of times.”
I suppose he has probably done it hundreds—if not thousands—of times with his own Charlie.
“I haven’t even told you the best part.” I take a deep breath. “He made up a song for Pigeon. It was silly”—not to mention that his voice is super pitchy—“but she purred the whole time he sang it to her.”
On the phone screen, Angela’s jaw drops practically to her chest. “And then what happened?”
“Well…” I chew on my bottom lip, a smile tugging on the sides. “I did what any person in my situation would do.”
“Please say you pushed him up against the bathroom wall and stuck your tongue in his mouth.”
“I didn’t push him up against the wall.” My smile cracks at last. “But, yeah, I did. And, oh my God. It was so freaking hot.”
Angela lets out a scream. From her perch on the edge of the couch, Pigeon lifts her head and gives a raspy meow of complaint.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Angela says. “I’m just so excited that your mommy has finally found you a daddy.”
“Hey, let’s not get carried away with ourselves.” My heart pounds a bit faster. “It was one kiss after one kind gesture. We’re not exactly setting a date or booking a church. I’m not even sure I even like the guy.”
“Oh, please.” Angela rolls her eyes. “The two of you have had this whole will-they-won’t-they thing going on for way too long. It’s always been only a matter of time before the two of you finally quit fighting it and banged.”
“Maybe this was just a one-time fluke.”
“Fluke my ass. You’re falling for him. And he’s clearly crazy about you.”
“I don’t know…”
He was so helpful. So in command yet understanding and sweet. Has he always been this way, and I was too busy keeping my guard up to see it?
Maybe—just maybe—Bradley is a good man with a kind heart. I know what Pigeon would say if she could do more than meow and hiss.
Then again, she once had a flirtation with a feral cat who ended up knocking up the neighbor’s cat and skipping town.
It’s safe to say, she hasn’t always had the best taste in men.
Pigeon and I aren’t the only women swooning over Bradley.
One hour at the senior center where we’re working on resolution number three—volunteering—and he already has a fan club forming. We arrived this afternoon prepared to play checkers or gin rummy. Instead, we found the residents assembled in the rec room for a dance.
Unlike the rest of Alaska, where the men outnumber women, there are more women than men gathered. Rumor has it that some of the guys are engaged in a secret high-stakes poker game. Whatever the reason, there are plenty of women looking for a dance partner. Good sport that he is, Bradley seemed willing to oblige.
“He certainly has a way with women,” one of the nurses says to me as we watch him awkwardly spin a partner on the floor.
“He’s a regular Casanova.”
Still, I can’t help but smile at the way he has each of his partners looking at him as if he hung the moon.
Eileen, one of his first dance partners, sits next to me. “When are you going to marry this fella of yours?”
“Oh, we aren’t together.”
“Sure, dear. Whatever you say.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “But let me say, if I was even ten years younger, and that man looked at me the way he keeps stealing glances at you, I wouldn’t be sitting here being a wallflower.”
I can’t help but laugh. “What would you do?”
“I’ll let you paint your own picture. But if it were me, it would probably involve sneaking off to one of the empty bedrooms. You know”—she wiggles her nearly invisible eyebrows at me—“all of the beds here are adjustable.”
I choke on the air. “Are they now?”
“Yes, ma’am. And I don’t mind telling you, there’s a lot of fun to be had when you can put your bed in different positions.”
My cheeks are burning so hot, I turn to stare at a watercolor of a teddy bear on the wall. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I’ve mostly recovered by the time Bradley has made his way through the line of seniors wanting to partner him for a dance.
“I’ll tell you this,” I whisper as he drops into the seat next to mine. “You could clean up if you were into much older women.”
As if on cue, Doris—an adorable spitfire who’s pushing ninety—hobbles past on her walker and blows him a kiss.
Chuckling, he wiggles his fingers in the air at her. “They’re sweet. They remind me of my grandma. She lives in Anchorage now. I try to visit her and her friends as often as I can.”
“Is that where you learned your sweet dance moves?”
His eyes narrow. “I didn’t see you cutting a rug out there.”
“Hey, I’m not the one pretending I know how to dance out there.”
“That’s it.” Taking my hand, he rises to his feet and pulls me up with him. “We’re going to see how you do out there.”
“Oh…” I clench my teeth together and grimace. “I was just kidding.”
“Nope. You’re in for it now. Rosie.” He turns to the bottle-dyed redhead running the record player. “Put on something peppy.”
“You’ve got it, sweetie.”
An old jazzy song crackles over the speakers. Bradley raises our clasped hands in the air and rests his spare palm on my waist.
I swallow hard, my pulse quickening. “I meant it. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Neither do I.” He starts swaying to the music and taking me with him. “But that hasn’t stopped us from tackling any of our resolutions.”
“We didn’t make ‘learning to dance’ one of our resolutions.”
“Maybe we can put it on next year’s list.”
My belly does a somersault. He’s just making a joke, I’m sure. Still, it’s not a terrible thought. I kind of like the idea of us working together and challenging each other to try new things and be the best versions of ourselves next year.
And while it quickly becomes apparent that neither of us has any natural sense of rhythm, by the time we’ve finished one dance, I can admit that this is fun.
By the time our new friends have bullied us into dancing for a second and a third time, it’s less fun and more… arousing.
Every squeeze of his hand on my hip. Every time our bodies brush against each other when one of us inevitably missteps. Every time I feel his warm breath on the side of my neck.
Every. Damn. Second. My body seems to cry for him, wanting more.
We barely close our respective doors in his car when we come together like two magnets. I don’t know who moves first. It doesn’t matter. But as our mouths move against each other, as his firm calloused hand molds to my curves, all I want is more. More of his mouth on me. More of his fingers working their magic.
More of everything he has to offer.
“I’m tired of fighting this,” I say as he trails his lips and tongue down the side of my neck. “I want you.”
“Finally.” He nips at my neck. “I’ve been waiting for you to admit that.”
“For how long?”
“Remember that time we did the joint excursion?” He unzips my coat and pushes the edges aside so he can trail his kisses along the collar of my v-neck top.
“The one along Chilkoot Pass?”
“Yeah.” The single syllable comes out as a growl that makes the pulse between my thighs beat even harder. “You chewed out those two kids from Las Vegas who wandered off on their own. You were so mad.”
“I was furious.” I sigh as his hand finally cups my breast and he slides a thumb over my puckered nipple. “Why do you bring that up?”
“That’s when I realized I wanted you.” He tugs my top down more, granting him greater access to my chest. “But you hated me so much.”
“Hate is a strong word.” I don’t get another chance to clarify. His lips have found my nipple now, and I’m too inflamed for any clear thoughts. I’m all need. All passion.
All consumed by this man and the way he’s already an expert at manipulating my body to his whims.
As he suckles me, Bradley flips open the button on my jeans and lowers the zipper. I keen as his fingers slide below the denim and lace of my panties to find me.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes,” I cry out as he traces my seam, spreading the moisture around my clit.
“Do you want more?”
“Yes.” Pleasure builds deep in my core. It’s like magma below the Earth’s surface. At any moment, I might erupt. “Please.”
“Fuck me.” His fingers grow bolder. “You’re so wet. I wish I could taste you right now.”
His words stir the churning even more. “I’m so close.”
“That’s a good girl. Come for me. Scream for me. Tell me?—”
A loud car horn blares.
“Fuck,” Bradley hisses, his fingers blazing in place. “Can’t that asshole see we’re busy and find another parking spot.”
In fairness to the driver, they probably can’t see that. Upon opening my eyes, I see we’ve fogged the windows.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.
“It’s okay.” I reach up to stroke his whiskered cheek. “You can make it up by taking me home and fucking me until I can’t walk straight.”