Finding Alana (4 page)

“Woah! Cold hands!”

“So warm them up,” I challenge.

The moment broken, he stands and takes off his jacket. When he’s finished, I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom. I sit to untie my combat boots, and he slides his chucks off by the door. Boots unlaced, I fall off the chair as I try to pull the first one off. I’m laughing like an idiot when I see Justin shake his head and kneel in front of me. “Let me do this. You’ll hurt yourself.”

After the second boot comes off, he stands, helps me up, then takes off his T-shirt. I gape. The man is beautiful. The police academy was good to him. He must work a ton to keep that body.

Noticing I’m frozen, and obviously appreciating his body, he steps closer to me, reaching out a hand to cup my cheek. Using his other hand to cradle my face, he guides my mouth back to his. I breathe in his scent all the way to my core because, for some reason, I can’t get enough. He feels… safe. I reach for the button on his jeans, and he reaches for mine. We shimmy out of our jeans and make our way onto my bed, mouths never relenting in their respective exploration of the other.

On the bed, he lays back and I straddle his hips, taking charge of the situation. I slide my hands across his chest, and consider leaning down to lick the lines of his abs. The vee of his hips taunt my drunken mind.

Instead, I start at his ear, leaving a line of kisses down his neck stopping the hollow of his throat. Here, I alternate licks and kisses as I move across his shoulder. He groans then wraps me in his arms as he rolls us over. His smile is encouraging as he says, “My turn.”

He kisses me so sweetly, my heart starts to ache. My brain decides now is a good time to chastise me for falling into bed with him because I’m drunk. The free spirit that resides inside is quick to shut that bitch up. We want this. He’s hot, and it has been five years.

Even back then, it wasn’t special. It had been an obligation. A requirement. Something I’d had to do to keep my ex-husband happy so he wouldn’t hurt me. Realizing I’m mentally checked out of this moment, I open my eyes to focus on Justin.

Moans slip out of me as he mimics the path of kisses I left on his body. The only difference is how his large, hot hands explore my body. He’s careful as he slides his hands under my T-shirt, up from my waist, across my stomach, and my scar. The scar.
Oh No!
My mind starts screaming at me.
No no no! Stop!
Sobering, I grab his hand and yell, “Stop! Don’t! No!”

Justin immediately stops and pulls back. He throws his hands in the air like a criminal that’s been caught, “What’s wrong? What did I do? Did I hurt you?” Concern colors across his face.

Pushing him off, I sit up, drawing my knees up to my chest. I rest my head on them as I try to catch my breath. He moves away from me, but only fractionally. He’s quiet until my breathing normalizes.

“Hey,” he says gently. “I’m sorry. It was too fast. We shouldn’t have…”

I sigh. “Please, don’t apologize. That was…I just…” I can’t look at him. I can’t finish the sentence. Tears pool and then start streaming down my face. I’m trying to regain some perspective and calm down. There’s a shift as Justin stands up. I don’t want him to leave, but I don’t know how to tell him why I stopped him.

He starts moving around the room, dressing. He comes to the edge of the bed, runs his hand from the crown of my head, and down my back. He sits for a long while rubbing my back. I think he’s waiting on me to snap out of it and talk to him. It seems like an eternity that he sits with me. Waiting.

Eventually, he kisses the top of my head, gets up from the bed, opens the door, and leaves.

When the door closes and his truck starts, the devastation of the moment becomes too much. I curl into a ball and fall apart.

I wake from my usual nightmare, sweating in a freezing house, disoriented. The only thing that anchors me is the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the house. Instead of starting with my morning shower, I decide to talk to Kate. When I enter the kitchen, she turns and places a cup of coffee on the breakfast bar. I smile. She doesn’t. She’s busy making pancakes and eggs. Bacon is already done and sitting on some plates for us.

“Yum. Breakfast. Thanks, babe,” I say to test the waters.

She lets out a small laugh. “Oh, you know this doesn’t come cheap. We are going to talk about last night.”

Her answer tells me all I need to know about the way this conversation is going to go. I consider the whole story of my past. Guilt courses through me as it occurs to me that I shouldn’t have gone to the bar last night. I should have just gone to see Irma. Justin wouldn’t have been in my bed, and I wouldn’t be shattered because he left. I wouldn’t be frustrated by my reaction to him touching my scar. The first guy I’ve gotten near, and I ruined it.

I’m startled out of my thoughts when Kate puts a plate in front of me. I look up into her eyes. Her face softens as she reaches out to wipe tears from my cheeks. “Hey, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

I smile. “No. He’s so perfect, it’s ridiculous. I’m okay, I think. Did you sleep with Cam?”

The look on her face is an answer without actually answering.

“Jesus, woman! You aren’t wasting time are you? How was it?” I wink.

Her Cheshire grin expands. “I mean, I’m no connoisseur of penises, but I’ve seen a few in my time.”

“Define ‘a few.’”

She chuckles. “Um, three-to-fifteen.”

I gape. “And?”

“And Cameron is pretty great. We’ll talk about you and Justin tonight.” The look she gives me is one my mother would have given me. I know better than to argue with her. “Eat up. It’ll get cold.”

I do as I’m told and don’t attempt to talk to her right now. There’s too much at stake. Maybe I can see Irma and get some direction on how to handle this.

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Work is going well today. Surprisingly so. When things go this well, I wait for the other shoe to drop.
Something is going to happen
. My mind always nags at me when things are too good.

It’s been a habit my whole life. Focusing on what’s happening at work is exactly what I need to distract me from the prior night’s events.

What was I thinking?
I know what I was thinking. I was thinking
God, he’s hot, his hands are so warm,
and
he certainly is skilled at using that tongue.
Thanks, beer, for making me forget I’ve sworn off involvement with men. What happened last night is why. Lost in thought, I don’t notice my prospective new manager, Dee, standing by my cube. She clears her throat and I jump.

“Alana! I’m sorry, hun. I didn’t mean to spook you.”

Holding my heart inside my chest with both hands, I take a deep breath, and try to reassure her. “No, it’s my fault. I was thinking about something else.”

She smiles. “Deep thoughts, huh?”

“Something like that. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I just wanted to tell you that we are going to wait to make a decision on that job. It’s going to be another week. We have a strong external candidate we’d like to meet with.”

“Okay,” my voice is small.

Now, it’s her turn to try and reassure me, “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but I wanted to keep you apprised.”

“I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Dee leaves and I notice that it’s about lunch time. Life has been so insane the last couple of days, I think I need to follow up on my visit to Irma. Something has been nagging me to go see her. Even though it’s a little early, I grab my purse, and head out.

When I pull up in her driveway, Irma steps out on to the porch.
She knew I was coming,
I think. I never thought I would believe in the things she says, or says she can do. Seeing first-hand changed my opinion on the matter. I bolt up the porch steps as fast as possible. I’m careful not to knock her over as I barrel toward her and hug her sweet neck. She squeezes me back as hard as she can.

“Girl, get in this house. It’s cold ya know!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Irma is not to be argued with. Ever.

Irma closes the door behind us and starts immediately, “What’s going on? Get to talkin’. You ain’t got much time.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me. You ain’t my first adopted child. I’ve adopted so many wayward children over the years, I can spot a problem following you before you know it’s there. Lord knows when you need me, and that’s what I’m here for, so start talkin’!”

I don’t hold back. There’s no reason to; she knows the worst things about me. I start spilling about everything that happened last night. Justin, the bar, the bed, and how it all ended. She’s made me a sandwich for lunch while I was talking. She places it on the table in front of me and orders me to eat.

While I do as I’m told, she gives me her two cents, “Listen here. Ya know better than ta go drinking and bring a man home. Especially one you’ve only known a day, but I ain’t here ta preach. You take care of that business.”

I nod appropriately as she continues, “What ya need right now is ta trust someone. You have ta let go of the shame your ex put in your head. What happened ta you wasn’t your doin’. Start with that roommate of yours. She’s good people. Let her in; it’ll start your heart ta healin’. If he’s worth it, you’ll find yourself wanting to tell him all about your past. Ya have ta give the man a chance. He’s not your ex.”

              “Irma, I swear it doesn’t feel like I’ve known him only a day. It feels like I’ve known him forever. There’s something about him that nags the back of my mind. That ‘I know you from somewhere’ feeling.”

“In my experience, that means you knew him in another life. But, baby, you’ve had a couple lives in just this life. Ya going ta let what’s-her-name in on your secret? It’s a good way ta test trusting someone.”

“What’s the point? Does it really change anything?”

“Child, I tell you what I can when I can. Right now, if I told you everything, you’d go and mess it all up. I ain’t lettin’ that happen.”

In the end, I agree to try trusting someone. Irma studies my palm before letting me leave. She mumbles under her breath, but as usual, she refuses to explain what she’s said. I’ve learned to quit worrying about that. She’s just Irma, and I trust her. “Irma, tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Don’t you go worryin’ ‘bout me, ya hear?”

“Oh, I don’t worry. Cade does. He asks me to keep up with you. I don’t do a very good job of it, normally. Which means that unless I call Rhae and Cade soon, they’ll make a trip up here to check on you.”

I’ve ruffled her feathers because she starts on a rant about minding your own business, which is followed by a fit about Cade and Rhae working on babies instead of fussing over her. Finally, she settles on telling me to tell them she’s fine.

I nearly agree, but remind her that they won’t buy a “fine” update. They know she’s been feeling down a bit lately. Mostly, we all think it’s seasonal. She can’t get out and about too much during winter and ever since her husband passed, she’s even less inclined to do anything outside of her house.

She relents and tells me about her most recent doctor’s appointments. Which she swears are all good. I promise to fill in Cade and Rhae when I talk to them. She fusses some more and forces me to take her extra pair of gloves before leaving.

On the way back to the office, I call Kate on my cell. She’s cleared her calendar for tonight so we can spend some quality time together.

“I was planning to corner you until you talked anyway. So I told the ladies I have some personal business to handle.”

The ladies are her roller derby team. The actual team name is the Derbytaints. The mascot is a busty girl holding a beer, pinky out, of course. They scare me to death because, on the one hand, I wish I was bold enough to play a sport so intense. On the other hand, the skill it takes to play that sport isn’t just physical. It’s a mental game, too. Suffice to say, I have immense respect for the ladies.

“Thank you for backing out of team dinner for me. You won’t get benched during the bout for missing it will you?”

“Nah. Cap said for me to bring my personal business to the bout and she’ll forgive me.”

“Um, Kate, what do they think your personal business is?”

“Duh, a man.”

I can’t help the raucous laughter that bubbles up. It’s very Kate to blow something off to get laid.

“Well, I’m not putting out. Just dinner, ya hear?” I mimic Irma’s favorite expression and tone of voice.

“You’ll put out. It’s Taco Tuesday!”

“Damn! I just might. Hey, listen, I need to talk to Justin too. Do you mind if we eat early so I can make time for him?”

Her huff on the other end of the line lets me know she’s not down with sharing me tonight. “Why does he get to intrude on our night?”

I sigh. “You’ll understand after we talk. Love ya. Don’t forget to pick up beans.”



I walk into the office feeling lighter from the idea of letting just a tiny bit of this burden go. As I turn the corner toward my cube, I see Justin working on a copier.

He’s squatting close to the floor, elbows-deep in the machine’s guts. He looks up as I’m appreciating the level of effort he’s putting into the job at hand.

His smile is kind. It strikes me as a little sympathetic, but I try to shake it off. It’s a negative feeling that will do nothing to help me remedy the situation. I dig deep for a broad, genuine smile, and I walk over to him.

He stands to greet me, and I notice he has toner or some other nasty mechanic-looking junk on his hands. When he starts to speak, I hold up my hand to silence him. “We’ll talk tonight.”

He nods and says, “Is this a conversation I want to have, or should we just go our separate ways now?”

I step closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist, close my eyes, lay my head on his chest. His heartbeat pounds under my ear, and I hold him until he reciprocates the embrace, which he does with his forearms so he doesn’t get toner all over me. I take a deep breath. “You want to have it.”

He drops his head to rest on top of mine. “Okay.”

Looking up into his eyes, I explain, “I have dinner with Kate tonight. Shouldn’t take too long. Dare I suggest we meet somewhere to talk after?”

He smiles. “Sure. As long as it’s not the bar, I think I’m good with wherever.”

“You know, I don’t usually take guys home from the bar, right?”

He chuckles. “No, I didn’t know that. I hardly know you at all. It’s been what?” He checks his watch. “Thirty-six hours since you finally told me your name?” It’s a question and a statement.

I purse my lips and attempt to pout, but that doesn’t last more than a split-second. “What if I told you I feel like I’ve known you for far longer than thirty-six hours? I can’t remember how or where we met, but there’s something there; right below the surface. Cheesy, huh?”

His expression is of pure relief. “God! I’m so glad you said it first!”

The corner of my mouth turns up in a smile. “Totally cheesy. My friend says it means we knew each other in another life. I don’t know if I believe in that kind of stuff, but it’s an interesting thought.”

The smile on his face broadens. “I like that. Past lives,
ooooooh
. So, talking tonight after dinner?”

“Yes. Absolutely. How do I get in touch with you?”

He laughs and reminds me he has a cell phone. Pulling a cloth from his back pocket, he cleans his hands and then hands me his cell phone from his front pocket.

I create a new contact with my information for him. When I hand the phone back, I look around us to see if we have audience. We don’t. I stand on tip-toes and plant a quick kiss on his delectable mouth. His smile as I walk away is all I need to get me through the rest of the day.



Dinner with Kate is amazing. When I walked through the door this evening, she already had the tacos well in-hand. We haven’t had Taco Tuesday in a month or so, and the smell is mouth-watering.

“We really need Taco Tuesday on a weekly basis. This is too good not to do it once a week,” I observe.

“Agreed. Do you want a Corona?” Kate asks. She decided that Coronas were the only beer we should be drinking with the gloriousness that is Taco Tuesday.

“Absolutely. Update me on the asshole at work.”

“Well,” she drags the word out as she pops the caps off our beers and comes back to the table. “Today, I had a talk with HR about him. Son of a bitch laid his hands on me.”

I nearly choke on my tortilla chip. “What? He had the balls to put his hands on you at work?”

She nods. “Yeah. You know how we have that little room beside the cubes that has our copier and office supplies in it? Well, I went in there to make some copies. While the machine was running, I was digging through the small accessory supplies looking for tiny binder clips. I was leaning over the drawer, and I heard the door close. At first, I thought a draft or something that had pushed it closed. When I turned around, there he was. He is such a slime ball. He tries to come off all preppy, uber-professional, and ends up looking like an overpaid pimp.”