Bound for Christmas (3 page)

It shocked and amazed her how easily this man made her want to venture out beyond her staid little world and live.

“Next would have to be Africa. It is more brown than green, but the amazing wild life you can see running through their natural habit is an impressive sight.”

As he continued to talk and tell her about the foreign country, painting a vivid scene before her mind’s eye she allowed herself to fantasize as the plane started its descent into Charlotte-Douglas Airport. In her fantasy she travelled the world, however, not alone. Instead there was a supportive, considerate man by her side who appeared nothing like Winston, but she admitted to herself that her fantasy man looked a lot like Evan.

She didn’t have hopes of knowing him beyond this one moment in time, but she now had a ruler to measure all other men against, especially since Winston was such a poor example of a real man.

*           *           *

“Do you need a ride anywhere? My car is sitting in long-term parking and I don’t mind giving you a lift.” Zoey bit down on the corner of her bottom lip and shifted a little from one foot to the other as he handed her the large suitcase he’d hauled from the luggage carousel for her.

Evan stood facing her as he slung the long strap of his duffel bag over his shoulder, while his other suitcase rested on the floor by his feet. “No, actually, I’m good I have someone coming for me.”

Was that disappointment he noticed turning her wide mouth down a little at the corners, or was it his wishful thinking. It was true they had hit it off during the last hour and a half of their flight and he’d felt a pseudo connection with Zoey. Hell, she was an attractive woman, with light brown eyes that shone with sincerity and a smile that jumpstarted his heart each time she flashed it. He wouldn’t allow himself to think of her killer body, while sitting in the plane beside her he hadn’t missed the stirring below his belt. His mind had noticed and his dick had stayed on full alert.

However, that didn’t mean there was an attraction on her end as well. She was most likely just being courteous in offering the ride.

Besides, even if Zoey had felt drawn to him and would consider something more since they lived in the same area, a romance was not in the cards for his life right now. He was carrying around more emotional baggage than the clothes shoved in his duffle bag.

“Okay, I guess this is good-bye.” Her even white teeth released its grip on her lip and she struck him with one of her radiant smiles again as she held her hand out.

Slipping his hand into her smaller one, he couldn’t miss the charge that went from his palm where it rested along hers and up his arm. During his college years he’d done some foolish things and had even been shocked once while attempting to rewire a DVD player into massive six foot concert speakers. However, that volt of electricity that had knocked him to the floor was nothing compared to what he felt touching Zoey.

Damn. Fuck. He wanted to ask her for her number. Or invite her to find a coffee shop in the airport, sit across from her and just spend more time getting to know her.

His gaze traveled along the smooth tawny complexion of her face and landed on the succulent swells of her full lips. Tinted a delicious pale plum that made him desire to taste and see if they were as sweet as they looked. The shine on her plump mouth drew him to her, clearing out everything from his mind; responsibilities, environment, everything... except her. Kissing her. He tugged her hand, just strong enough to make her stumble a little. Her intoxicating scent surrounded him. His mind conjured up images and scenarios of things he’d like to do to her; see if she willing submitted.

She gasped and licked her lips. Her hand trembled slightly.

Shit, what am I doing?
Sense finally entered his mind. 

This
wasn’t in the cards for him. Not now. He had to allow her to walk away.

Slipping his hand from hers, he said, “You are a treasure. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Zoey Carliegh.”

She took a step back, as a shaky smile stretched her lips and she nervously fingered her right earring.

He forced himself not to step forward. She probably thought he was a crazy man. The only thing she had offered him was a lift and he wanted to give her a
lift
. One that would allow her to wrap her luscious thighs around his waist.

“I think I benefited more from it. If not for you I may have jumped up and went screaming down the aisle.” She waved one of her hands frantically beside her face as if she were doing the action.

He couldn’t help but allow his lips to tilt at the corners a little. That’s what it was about this woman; she made him want to smile. Want to push away all his gray clouds and just laugh. Shaking away those thoughts, he said, “I think you would have made it through. Maybe we’ll see each other in the skies again.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged one shoulder and took a few more steps away from him walking backwards. “If and when I fly again, I’ll remember to ask who my pilot is.”

“Evan Douglas is who you’ll be looking for.” He called out.

“Oh, I won’t forget.” She did one of those cute finger waves that only women could pull off and then turned and walked toward the signs labeled parking garage.

Neither will I
.

He watched her walk away amidst all of the holiday decorations adorning the walls and ceiling of the airport.  If a fire would have broken out in the area and people had been ordered to evacuate, a severe emergency such as that wouldn’t have pulled him away from the view. Zoey was the kind of woman that captivated a man’s full attention; long legs, nice round ass, a small waist and steps backed by confidence. On the ground she was poised.

There was nothing like self-assurance that turned him on. He may want submissive women, but not weak ones. A woman that knew her own mind was sexy as hell.

“Hey, Evan, you going to stand there all day? You know a brotha is double parked in the pick-up zone.”

Chapter Three

Evan turned to the man who had been his best friend for too many years to count, Trevon Smalls. Tre, was a black man that looked more like a linebacker than an administrative attorney for Mecklenburg County.

“If you get a ticket, I’m not paying.” Crossing the distance, he took his friends’ hand in a fierce grip as Tre pulled him forward into a hug and pat on the back.

“No worries, it’s my county cruiser, so we’re good. Working with Mayor Foxx has its perks.” Tre grabbed the suitcase off the ground.

“Thanks for picking me up,” he said, hoisting his duffle bag more securely on his shoulder as they headed out of the airport to the white SUV.

“Man, I’m just glad you’re finally home.” 

“So am I.” Evan meant that, no matter the confrontation that awaited him.

“Is this all you have?” Tre asked, tossing the suitcase in the back then taking the duffle bag from him and placing it on top. “Ten years of life in two bags?” Rounding the back of the vehicle Tre got in behind the wheel.

“What can I say, I knew it was temporary.”  Evan settled into the passenger seat and put on his seatbelt. “I just didn’t know that the short detour in my life would take me ten years to get back on track.”

“I heard that.” Snapping his seatbelt into place, Tre checked his side mirror and then shifted the car into gear and merged into traffic leaving the airport.

Evan had told the truth, he kept his life while in the military very simple. A few more boxes would be coming in that he’d had shipped to his father’s house; office supplies, mementos, awards and other things. Everything else of value that he owned was in a storage unit in Charlotte waiting for him to find a house.  Fully furnished apartments had been his way of life for a long time and he looked forward to sleeping in his own bed.

On the thirty-five minute drive to his father’s house, Evan asked Tre about his job and the changes in Charlotte since he’d been away. It had been almost two years since Evan had been home; it was when his father had the first stroke. At that time he’d told his father that he was leaving the military and going back to flying. His father had fallen silent, not because he couldn’t speak. No, amazingly none of his strokes had every affect his speech fully. However, Evan would never forget the look in his old man’s eyes, disappointment and regret.

His father had turned towards the window of his hospital room and ignored Evan, his only living child. James Douglas was a hard man.

“Hey, man, I appreciate you looking in on my father when he had his second stroke six months ago.” Evan said as they pulled up into his father driveway.

“That’s what friends are for.” Tre gripped his shoulder and squeezed.

Evan understood his friend’s gesture. If anyone knew what lay ahead of him, the weight on his shoulders once he crossed the threshold, Tre did.  “I know, but thanks, still.” Evan got out of the car and pulled open the back hatch and removed his two pieces of luggage.

“You need help?” Tre got out the vehicle too and stood beside him.

“No, I’m good from here.”

Pulling something out of his inside suit coat pocket, Tre handed it to him. “I almost forgot. I picked this up for you last week as you asked.”

Taking the small square, black envelop Evan stared down at it knowing exactly what it was. His best friend was the only person he would trust with getting the item for him. Slipping it into his back pocket, Evan gave Tre a sharp nod. “Appreciate it.”

“Hey, not my cup of coffee, but I figured you’d need it.”

Evan knew his friend was correct. The tension of the coming confrontation was already building in his body and there was only one thing in his life that gave him peace and the release that he needed.

“Hey, Eliana is cooking tamales black beans and Spanish rice tonight. You’re welcome to join us.”

Evan loved Tre’s wife’s cooking; Spanish cuisine with an authentic Mexican flare. “Let’s see how things go with my father.”

“No problem.” Tre shut the back hatch of the SUV. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Evan turned and headed to the door. There was no reason for him to put off the inevitable.  

Inhaling deeply, he pulled the key to his family home out of his pocket and shoved it into the lock. Moments later, he set the bags down in the entryway and took a deep breath. Scanning the all too familiar interior Evan’s mind drifted back to a time when his mother was alive and how entering the house would smell just like apple pie. It was his favorite desert and his mom made it once a month because she knew he liked it. Just like she knew Derek like chocolate cake and his dad loved sherbet every night after dinner.

The memory of Cathy Douglas’s smiling face appeared and faded before him. Rotating his shoulders, he attempted to fortify himself for what was to come. Moving further into the house he went to the first guest bedroom on the other side of the living room to see his father.

 “Son of a bitch, he’d actually gone and did it.”

Evan stared at his father from the doorway, observing the man he’d looked up to in his childhood. When Evan was a young boy, his father hung the moon. An impressionable Evan that believed no one was stronger or braver than his father. It was the teenage Evan that soon realized that his father was unreasonable. The adult Evan quickly understood that James Douglas was narrow-minded and pigheaded about a lot of things.

 “Hello to you too, Dad.” Evan entered the room, but, stayed a few feet away from where his father lay in the hospital-style bed. The area that had once been a brightly light guest room with pastel colors and sheer curtains over large windows now looked sterile and cold. There was a hint of an odor in the air, stale and sick, denoting an unwashed body. The curtains his mother had made were replaced with dark thick drapes that blocked out the sunlight. In the sparse room there were only a tall chest of drawers and a table beside the bed with a binder, charts and an abundance of medication. The only familiar item was the television on the wall.

“Look right there, Teresa. That before you is a weak coward of a man.” James spoke to the nurse who was fixing the cuff on his arm to take his blood pressure as he waved a gnarled and twisted finger towards Evan.

Teresa placed the ear piece of the stethoscope in her ears as she glanced over at him. Evan could see the pity in the short redhead’s eyes. It was a look Evan was used to seeing on other people’s faces when it came to his father’s degradation of him. However, years ago Evan had learned to separate his father’s words and his own thoughts about himself. The military and war, and giving up his own life had dug that canyon for him.

“Always the kind words.” Evan couldn’t help but feel a slight sadness in seeing his father transformed from the robust and solid man he had been. Now, it was clear to see how much grief and repeated strokes and bad health had ravaged his father, making James Douglas a shadow of his former self. “So, how is he doing?” He directed his question to the nurse standing beside the bed.

“Mr. Douglas is doing better, but still needs to--”

“Don’t ask her as if I’m a fucking mute invalid!”His father barked, his words slightly slurring as he shifted and wrestled against the bed struggling to raise himself up. “I may not be able to get myself to the bathroom to shit, but I can still speak for myself.”

It was true; his father’s speech had only barely been altered by the two strokes that had attacked his body in the last year. However, Evan wanted to know the truth of his father’s health, not the bravado his dad would be spewing.

“Then tell me, Dad, how is your health?”

“Fine. Fuckin’ fine!” he pierced him with dual greenish-brown eyes that were no less intense. “So, you can just pick up your damn bags and get out of my house. I don’t need you here.”

Teresa didn’t look at him this time, instead, Evan noticed the woman turned her back and began picking up and moving pill bottles as if she were taking an inventory count. Evan was pretty sure the woman already knew all the medications by heart. She was his dad’s around the clock nurse and lived in the second guest bedroom on the other side of the living room.