Twenty-Six
Winslet
It seemed they hadn’t been exaggerating about everyone having heard the lie. Toby had all but run in the other direction when I was walking out to the parking lot. That was a first. It didn’t bother me. If anything, it was a relief I didn’t have to deal with him.
Meg’s door was closed when I walked by, and I considered knocking and seeing if she knew who had started this, but didn’t. There was no need to bring anyone into this. And even if I did know who had done it, what good would that do? The powers that be knew who it was. That wasn’t what had been in question.
When I opened the door to my apartment, I dropped the box of my things I’d taken from the classroom onto the floor. I’d left behind over a thousand dollars’ worth of things I had paid for. It was for the kids. They shouldn’t suffer because of this.
My eyes stung when I thought about not being able to tell them goodbye. Jeremy and his missing two front teeth wouldn’t rush in and tell me all about what he had read with his dad that night before bed. Lana, who always seemed to need a hug, wouldn’t have me there ready when she came to me. Would whoever they replaced me with be sensitive to her little spirit?
Crap! I hadn’t explained the spelling test song for Friday. If they memorized it, they got a free Popsicle at snack time. I paid for it. Pulling out my phone, I went to the teachers group chat, then decided against it and found Meg’s name instead.
Hey, I don’t know what you heard, but I won’t be there this week. Could I Venmo you and you buy Popsicles at snack time for the kids who memorized the spelling bee song for Friday? Please.
I sent it and waited, but there was no response right away. She could be driving home. I set the phone down and slipped off my heels with a long, weary sigh. The tightness in my chest and lump in my throat with the need to break down only filled my eyes more. Walking dejectedly over to the sofa, I curled up and wrapped my arms around my knees and let it all go. The tears, the unfairness, the embarrassment, and the humiliation—every emotion I had gone through this afternoon seemed to unfurl into deep, heavy sobs.
Maybe I had hit my breaking point. The events starting with being taken in the parking lot of Hobby Lobby until now just came tumbling out. Perry’s face when he had been led out of the courtroom after his sentence with handcuffs on his wrists—I hadn’t fallen apart then, but my heart had hurt for not being able to save him. Mostly because he had done this to himself. He’d committed a crime. I’d been angry with him too.
I didn’t wipe at my face but just continued until there were no more tears. It hadn’t made me feel better, but my soul had needed it. I stared at the ceiling, thinking through every person I had come in contact with today. I now knew their odd behavior was because they’d all heard the lie.
Who did my getting fired benefit? Heck, I had done all the extra jobs that none of the teachers wanted. With me gone, who would do it all?
I wasn’t gone yet though. I hadn’t made my decision. Was I going to cave and let them bully me or stand my ground and be unemployed? If this weren’t the Bible Belt, I could take it to the news. Get those that supported me. Fight back. But down here? Yeah, nope. I’d be even more ridiculed.
A knock on my door jerked me out of my thoughts, and I sat up, wiping at my face. Who was that? I rarely had company, and when I did, I knew they were coming. I dried my face while walking over to look in the peephole. Could it be another teacher? Someone who knew the truth?
I lifted the little metal flap and peered out. The man standing out there had me sucking in a breath. What was Oz doing here? I stepped back and stared at the door like it was a snake. So many thoughts right now. The first being that I didn’t want him to see me like this. I wasn’t scared of him. If he had been going to do something to me, he would have by now. And then there was the fact that I had no idea what I had told him on Saturday night, but I had said something about my vibrator.
He knocked again. My car was out front, and he knew what it looked like. He was aware I was here. There was a large part of me that wanted to open that door. Another part reminded me that although he was the wealthy heir to some famous stables, that black flag was still waving.
“Winslet, don’t make me break in the door.” His voice startled me.
Would he do that? Yes. Yes, he would. What did it matter that my eyes were red and puffy? He’d seen me in much worse shape. The knob wiggled, and I had a feeling his patience was running thin.
I moved and unlocked it, then opened it before I could talk myself into hiding in a closet instead. I wasn’t over my embarrassment from whatever I had said to him on Saturday night. The whole him bringing me the sloth was also screwing with me. A stuffed animal did not take down a black flag as bold as his.
The scowl on his face was not what I needed right now. I had my quota of people being mean to me today. If he was here because Perry had done something else and he was angry, then he should go to the prison. They had visiting hours.
He took two long strides, moving me back as he forced his way inside, pushing the door closed behind him. His eyes scanned my face as if he was searching for answers to something.
“What happened?” he asked gruffly.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Or I might cry again.
Oz grabbed my chin and tilted my head back, making me look at him when I had tried to duck my head. “Tell me.” The demand came out as just that, but as if he was trying to soften his voice and failing.
There was something in his eyes that had me wanting to tell him. A concern, along with a protectiveness that felt so unfamiliar to me, but I found my chest ached for it. I wanted someone else to care or want to listen. Not just someone. Marley would listen, and I knew she cared. I wanted this man to care. Wow. I probably shouldn’t have admitted that to myself. Was it all the fantasy sex I’d had with him? The sloth? The way he had almost flirted in the parking lot on Sunday?
“Darlin’, I’m about to go to that school you work at and demand answers. Folks might not walk out of their unharmed. Now, I need you to start talking.”
He looked serious, and I…believed him. He would do it. In case I did decide I wanted to keep my job, I didn’t need that.
“I was accused of being pregnant. It’s a Christian school, and an unwed pregnant woman violates their rules and morals,” I blurted.
His brows drew together. “But you’re not pregnant.”
“I know,” I replied.
Although why was he so sure? Did he find it hard to believe a man would sleep with me? Because the hard-on I’d felt the last time we were this close told me he would have no problem with it.
He rubbed the pad of his thumb in a slow caress on my chin. “Then, what is the problem?” he asked, his voice a deep, smooth rumble now.
Talk about a distraction. Lordy, he should charge for this gift. Women around the world would hand over their bank accounts.
“The problem is…” I said, licking my lips.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, and I tried real hard not to react to that.
Focus. You have a problem. What is it? Oh, right.
“Whoever told the principal that I was pregnant, he, the president of the board, and a female board member all believe this person, even without proof.”
His eyes were back on mine now, and his thumb still rubbed against my skin gently. “And?” he urged.
I shrugged. “And the lie spread through the faculty and staff. Parents will hear the gossip. They’ll be appalled and want me and my loose morals away from their children, et cetera.”
His thumb stopped, and his eyes narrowed again. “Are you saying they fired you? Over a fucking lie?”
“Not yet,” I replied. “My word isn’t good enough. They need proof. I offered to take a pregnancy test today at school while they waited, but that wasn’t okay. Because I could have had an abortion, and guess what. That’s another moral-code breaker in the church.”
The gray of his eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched tightly. He was angry. This made him angry. For me. Okay, that felt good. I was angry too. Having someone to be angry for me—well, that was a vindication. What I was feeling wasn’t wrong. I mean, I knew that, but I needed backup. I would have never guessed this was where that backup would come from. I’d have thought it would be Marley.
Oz being on my side ignited a more powerful emotion.
“What is it they want you to do?” he asked slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.
“They want me to willingly hand them my medical records,” I explained. “I have nothing to hide, and it will clear this up, but the fact that they are demanding I give up my right to privacy over my body because of a lie that they believe is true is really hard for me to do. I’m having an internal battle.”
Oz shook his head. “No. You’re not giving those motherfuckers shit,” he said as if he was the final answer.
As hot as that was, he wasn’t telling me what to do either. I would be the one to make this decision.
He let go of my chin and looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. “Open a bottle of wine, find something for us to watch. I’ll order food. What are you in the mood for? Mexican? Italian? Burgers? Pizza? Please do not say sushi.”
When he continued to stand there, waiting on me to reply, I realized he was serious. He was going to get us food and watch TV with me?
My little moment on the sofa on Monday, where I’d thought about him, sent heat to my face, and I turned away quickly to hide it.
“You don’t have to stay. But I do appreciate the offer,” I replied, walking into the kitchen for some distance and so I couldn’t smell him—because heaven help me, that scent was divine.
“I’m in the mood for wings, so if you don’t choose, that’s what we are eating.”
I stopped a smile that was fighting to tug on my lips. This was…nice. Oz was being nice. Again. He was trying to be there for me during a difficult time. He didn’t want to leave me alone. I felt important. Why couldn’t I enjoy this? He wasn’t the same man who had abducted me. In his defense, my brother had taken four million dollars from him. I’d be mad about that too. He hadn’t killed Perry either. He hadn’t hurt me.
It wasn’t wrong for me to like the idea of having the attention of the hottest man I’d ever seen.
I turned around to look at him. “In that case, Mexican. Wings are too messy and not worth the effort.”
The corner of his mouth quirked. “Mexican it is. Get the red wine,” he replied.
I was turning to the wine rack, about to tell him I only had white and wishing I still had the fancy bottle Perry had given me when I saw the top of a bottle I didn’t recognize. I slid it out slowly, knowing this had not been here Saturday night. Holding the bottle with both hands, I studied the dark bottle with the burgundy top and gold label. Masseto was written at the top, along with text that I believed was Italian. I felt Oz’s warmth behind me, and the flutters in my stomach were almost enough to distract me from the foreign bottle in my hand.
His arm reached around me, and the hard bulges of his biceps brushed over my bare arm while he took the bottle from me. “Where’s the opener?” he asked, the huskiness in his voice close to my ear.
I blinked and took in a ragged breath. “Um,” I replied. “It’s, uh…” I started to point, but I couldn’t think straight when the man who starred in all my sexual fantasies was that close. It was confusing. So, I moved away toward the correct drawer. It wasn’t until I was opening it that my confusion about this bottle returned to the forefront of my thoughts.
“I didn’t buy that wine,” I told him. “I mean, it…I don’t know where it came from.” It was crazy-sounding, I realized, but it also looked expensive.
He nodded his head toward the drawer behind me. “Whoever did has good taste. I’m not a wine drinker, but I’ll drink this,” he replied. “Opener?”
Did he think I was kidding? I mean, it did sound insane, but it had just appeared here. I had decided that I might be sleepwalking, and that explained the other things, but the wine didn’t work with that theory. I hadn’t walked in my sleep to a wine store in the middle of the night and bought this.
“I am serious, Oz. I don’t know where that came from. Someone put it here. I…I…”
My imagination was taking over. Different crime TV episodes I had watched of something like this happening began to play out in my head. The small hints that didn’t add up. They could be here now. My heart began to race in my chest, and I reached for the sharpest knife in the block, sliding it out.
“I’m not using that to open this. I mean, I can, but it will likely get cork in the wine,” Oz said.
I shook my head and put a finger over my mouth to silence him.
Someone had put that bottle in the rack. It could be drugged. Perry might have screwed someone else over that we didn’t know about. They might have found him in jail and come for me. This bottle was for me to drink, and then they would take me.
I walked as soundlessly as possible as I made my way to the pantry and jerked it open.
“What are you doing?” Oz asked.
I shook my head, but didn’t look back at him and continued toward the bathroom. If I were waiting for someone to drink the drugged wine I had left for them, where would I hide? I could be here awhile. They might not drink it right away. I didn’t have that many hiding places that were good for long-term hideouts.
My eyes slowly scanned the bathroom for any sign that they had been in here. My eyes went to the towel. Had that been them? Was the person here to take me a clean freak?
I stilled. There was the other scenario I’d thought of and didn’t want to think about. Some sicko who had been breaking into my apartment and watching me. Bile rose in my throat. The wine was so they could take me and…and keep me.
A large hand touched my arm, and I screamed, jumping and almost dropping the knife.
“Jesus,” Oz hissed behind me, reaching around and taking the knife out of my hand. “You’re gonna slice off a finger or toe. What the hell are you doing?”
He was going to think I was a wacko. Maybe I was. I’d been saying I needed counseling for wanting the man who had abducted me to also make me orgasm, but I mean, if I showed the counselor a picture of him, she’d probably agree that was normal. This stalker thing was not normal. Things being moved around and appearing in my apartment were far from normal.
I pointed at the towel. “See that?” I asked.
“The towel?” he asked.
I nodded, already regretting bringing it up.
“Yes.” He said the word as if he was worried about me.
“I didn’t hang it there. At least I don’t remember it. I left it on the floor of my bedroom last night.” My voice was barely above a whisper in case someone was here and heard me. “I’ve never seen that bottle of wine in my life. We can’t drink it. Someone could have drugged it—whoever put it there. Or maybe Perry pissed off someone else and they can’t get to him in prison so they’re coming after me.” I paused, then took a deep breath because this one was the scarier scenario. “Or I have a stalker who can get into this apartment.” I dropped my voice. “I was checking the place for someone.”
Oz’s hand squeezed my arm, but not painfully. “That’s what the knife was for?”
I detected humor in his tone. I was right. He thought I was crazy.
“I needed a weapon, and I don’t own a gun.”
I felt his warm breath against my cheek, and my girlie parts decided to wake up and distract me.
“I do.” His deep voice made me close my eyes for a moment.
Whew, that was nice. It would feed my time alone tonight.
“Why didn’t you ask me to search the place for you?”
That question caught me off guard.
I frowned. “I don’t know. I just…I just handle things. I don’t think about asking for help.”
I was proud of that independence too.
I was alone most of the time. I didn’t need to learn to depend on someone. It wasn’t like Oz showed up often. The only other time, I couldn’t even remember why, unless it had just been to give me the sloth. Wait…why had he come here today?
I turned around, frowning up at him. “Why did you stop by this afternoon?” I asked.
He had seen me and immediately started asking what was wrong. But why had he come here to begin with?
An almost grin touched his lips. “I wanted to see you. I’ve thought of little else since Sunday.”
The excitement at that was probably not smart because although I did not think I was in danger of this man anymore, I also didn’t know if I could take being one of his one-nighters. If I got to actually experience sex with him, there was a good chance my emotions would get involved. I’d never had casual sex. But he sure did make me want to chance it.
“Until Saturday, you hadn’t seen me in eight weeks,” I told him, refraining from adding and one day to that.
He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I found that was difficult. It surprised me. But I forced myself to give you some time. After everything that had happened and was happening with your brother, I saw you Saturday, and that seemed to be the limit on how long I was going to be able to leave you alone.”
Not once in all my many fantasies about this man was that what I’d thought he would say.
“You,” I said carefully, “wanted to see me ? Again?”
I had not gotten the vibe at all. He’d never once acted as if he was interested in me that way.
Was this what players did? Tell a girl what she wanted to hear, and the gullible female fell for it, legs wide open, and then he walked away when he was done?
“When I tucked you in your bed and left you here”—he paused, then gave me a wicked grin—“that deserved a fucking award. What I had wanted to do was crawl in there with you.” He leaned down so close but hovered there.
My heart was going wild. He’d carried me to bed that night? He was the one who took off my shoes and pants? Not me. I’d gone all that time, having no idea. I felt robbed. That was something I’d have liked to know.
“If I kiss you right now, I’ll end up fucking you.” His voice was a dark warning. “And tonight, that’s not what you need. So, come on,” he said, straightening and taking my hand. “Let’s go get the wine open, and I’ll order Mexican.”
I almost grabbed his shirt and jerked him back, demanding he do the other thing. I knew what I needed, and that little threat sounded perfect. But I didn’t because he had said the word wine , and I was back to the issue that had brought me to the bathroom, armed, to begin with.
“We can’t drink that wine, and you should search the place with your gun if you have it on you,” I said. “Since you took my knife away.”
“We can drink the wine. I bought the wine. You had just drunk your first bottle of good red wine and found you liked it. All you have is the screw-top white wine shit. So, I replaced yours,” he said.
I stopped walking, and since he had me around the wrist, he stopped, too, then turned back to me.
“When did you replace my wine, and how do you know all that?” I asked him, watching his face carefully.
A smirk. God, that freaking smirk. He hadn’t shaved in over a week, at least two, and that was insanely sexy, as if he needed any added help in that department.
“Saturday night,” he said as if I should know this. “The sloth.”
Oh. Right. The visit I didn’t remember. How long had he been here, and what all had I told the man? Here I was, accusing Toby of talking about himself too much, but it seemed I had given Oz my own life story.
“You had a lot to drink for such a small, untrained body,” he said, then gently tugged my arm. “Will you come drink it now that you are safe from a stalker and I swear it isn’t drugged? I will drink the first glass.”
I nodded and started to walk, then stopped again.
“Wait. So, you came by with the sloth on Saturday night. It was during that visit that I had drunk the red wine and told you I liked it. When did you come back with the bottle in the kitchen?” I was thinking about this too hard. I realized that, but there was some niggling in my gut that I couldn’t satisfy. And it was a good question.
His amused chuckle as he gave his head a small shake and looked at me through those thick lashes made my panties wet instantly.
“I had the bottle I gave you in my Hummer. Sundays, I stop by my parents’ for dinner most of the time. That is my mom’s favorite wine. I’d bought her a bottle earlier that day, and I went and got it, then brought it to you. I figured you’d appreciate it more than she would. I picked her up flowers on Sunday before I went over there instead.”
Everything that had just come out of his delectable mouth had the warm tingles running amok under my skin and between my legs. I felt guilty for questioning him now. No more crime TV shows for me. Really, that was it. They were making me act looney.
“That’s very sweet,” I said.
He lowered his lashes. “Darlin’, don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m sweet,” he said. Then, his eyes did a leisurely once-over of me. “Unless that eases your mind and you can relax and trust me.”
I needed ice. My body could use some to cool down. We were well past a fan.