Hands rubbed the tops of my arms as if I needed soothing or something. As if he wanted out, which involved me shutting up and getting the hell off of him.
“Big day,” Vaughan rumbled, drawing me back to the here and now. “Better get you to bed. How’s your hip feeling?”
“Fine. It’s just bruised.” I moved my big butt, crouching at the front of the tub, returning to the “oh god, cover everything so he doesn’t see your masses of white flab” position. Pure protective instinct and annoying as hell. There was nothing wrong with my body. I was a strong modern woman, yada yada. Old habits were a bitch to break.
A mighty wave rolled back and forth, sloshing more water onto the floor. He stepped out, dripping all the way. Soon enough the bath mat resembled a sodden puddle. Wet shirt and jeans went splat on the floor.
Man, I loved his skin. All of the art inked into him. The way his body moved, brisk and efficient, limbs moving, muscles flexing. He did nothing unique or peculiar. No acrobatics or aerial feats were involved. Just Vaughan doing his thing, moving through the world, living his life. I couldn’t have torn my eyes away.
He wiped off his upper body, then wrapped the towel around his waist. “You need a hand?”
I smiled. “No. Thanks.”
He nodded and then headed for the door. My Prince Charming, going, going, gone. It’s a pity sex has consequences you can’t always anticipate. Changes in emotion, in how you perceive people. Too bad you couldn’t buy love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sunday, we worked the dinner shift at the Dive Bar.
Due to an event downtown, it wasn’t particularly busy. Boyd, with the aid of Kurt the kitchen kid, was in charge. It seemed he liked to do an all-day brunch on the seventh day. Eggs Benedict, ricotta pancakes with banana and butterscotch sauce, potato and corn cakes with spinach, bacon, and relish, and other amazing things. We arrived just in time to catch the end of it as they changed over to the dinner menu, which mainly included pizzas and pastas. Getting to taste test the remains of brunch on breaks was the best. Issues regarding the size of my ass and hips were problems for another day.
No sign of Eric or Nell. Joe and Vaughan worked the bar.
I’d called Nell earlier and left a message on her cell. After the events of last night, I’d probably want to be left the hell alone too. The rest of the day passed swiftly, and was relatively painless. Despite the countdown to Vaughan’s departure tick-tocking in my head.
He slept with me. We didn’t discuss it, he just climbed in beside me, boxer briefs on. They remained intact. Things were so weird now. The gratitude I felt when he lay by my side burned.
Love was a bitter pill.
Sleeping in helped with my various aches and pains before we moved my stuff, which didn’t take long. We each took our cars to deliver one load to the second-floor storeroom above the restaurant and we were done. Most of my kitchen and household-type items had been donated to a local charity just before the wedding. I thought I’d no longer need them, what with all of those gifts from the Delaneys’ fancy friends arriving every day.
“Cover me.” A hand suddenly gripped my arm. A male voice coming from directly behind me. “Good job. What’s your name?”
“Is this a robbery or something?” I asked, not sure whether to be perplexed or afraid.
The mystery man laughed. “Fuck no. Got more money than I can spend in this lifetime. What’s your name?”
“Lydia.”
“Okay, Lydia. You’re doing great.”
“Thanks.” I chanced a glance over my shoulder.
“Don’t look at me!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Despite it being nearly nine at night, the dude wore sunglasses. His face was mostly obscured by a trucker’s hat. Strands of long blond hair had escaped the cap, however, hanging down past his shoulder. Bright green T-shirt. Other than that, I had nothing. If I had to describe him to the police, there wouldn’t be much to go on, dammit. “I won’t do it again.”
“I should hope not. Sheesh, Lydia,” he said, tone exasperated. “I need you to work with me here. Just act normal. Walk toward the bar like nothing weird is going on at all, all right?”
“All right.”
“Let’s go.”
With slow measured steps we moved toward the bar. It took me a while to catch Vaughan’s eye. I tried to communicate several things to him with my look. First, I was not happy. Second, whoever stood behind me was the definite cause of this unhappiness. His eyes widened, then his gaze jumped to the person steering me toward the big blond bartender.
“You trying to be in disguise or what?” Vaughan asked, voice oddly calm. Instead of reaching for a shotgun or something, he continued pouring a beer.
“Yes,” said the maniac, stepping out from behind me. “Genius, isn’t it?’
Vaughan leisurely checked him out then shook his head. “You’re a fucking idiot. Get your hand off Lydia, you’re freaking her out.”