MoreThanWords (14 page)

Something was off. Like, really off. “Tonight, or ever
again?”

“As much. Some new web projects came my way, plus Black Box
has weeknight gigs booked through the holidays. Some are out of town, meaning
travel time.” He freed his hands from his pockets. Took a half step back. “I’ll
be lucky to squeeze in some online Scrabble time.”

Oh god, he was breaking up with her. Subtly weaseling his
way out of saying the words straight up, but this was unquestionably a breakup.
The dark cloud hanging over him, the lack of kissing, his hesitancy to touch
her at all…

“I get it. And, thanks.”

“Thanks?” He coughed out a disgusted half laugh. “Don’t
thank me. I don’t deserve it after—” His boot scuffed over the
polished-concrete floor. Now he wasn’t even making eye contact.

“After what happened last night? Is that why you’re freezing
me out, because you carted me outside against my will and I lost my mind? I
reacted out of fear, Travis, but I’m not upset with you.” She dared a step
toward him. When he didn’t move, she put her arms around his neck. Grabbing
hold of what she wanted and not letting go, like Caitlyn had said. “Actually,
it was a good thing. A wakeup call. You did me a favor, you big jerk, did
us
a favor. I’m going to try harder to beat this fear.” She curled her fingers
around his neck, bringing him down to meet her lips.

At the last second, he pulled up. “I kissed somebody last
night.”

“W-what?” Her arms went numb as they slid down his chest,
releasing him.

“At the bar, after the show. A woman who made herself at
home on my knee.”

The image punched the air from her lungs. He’d kissed
somebody else the same night he’d officially called her his girlfriend. After
they’d had a huge misunderstanding, yes, one he could’ve assumed was a
deal-breaker, relationship-wise, but still. “Do you do that a lot, make out
with women who throw themselves at you in bars?”

“I used to. You know that—I told you what an ass I’ve been.”

That he had. He’d been brutally honest when they’d unpacked
all their baggage during hours of late-night conversation. She’d naively
believed him when he’d told her that part of his life was over. That he wanted
it to be over.

“I wish to god it hadn’t happened, that I could take it
back. After our fight, or whatever it was, I didn’t know what to think…that’s
no excuse, I know. I should’ve stopped things.” He scrubbed his hand over his
head, shaking it as he did. “I made a huge mistake.”

She swallowed and nodded. Okay. It’d take time, but they
could move past it. “Everybody makes mistakes. I appreciate you being honest
with me…you didn’t have to be, I wouldn’t have known.” Her hands shook where
they wrung together in front of her. Her legs had started too. “We could go
upstairs. Have dinner. Talk more, if you want.”

“I can’t.”

“Because you have to be somewhere else, or because of what
you did?”

“What I did.”

Maybe forgiving him wasn’t enough. She fought off the visual
of Travis’ lips touching another woman’s, held her breath and stretched up to
brush her mouth against his. Lightly, briefly. Then deeper, running her tongue
along his seam. “I’ll get over it, see?”

“It was more than a kiss, Calli.”

“How much more?”

Hazel eyes pierced her straight through. “I told her to suck
my dick.”

Stability abandoned her. She stumbled backward, colliding
with a rack, sending hangers with peignoir sets clattering to the floor. “And?”

“And she went to her knees, unzipped me and took out my
cock. Then I told her to stop.”

“Why’d you tell her to stop, so you c-could…fuck her
instead? Tell me you used a condom.”

“No condom—”

“Oh my god. How could you be so stupid and horrible and…”
Her stomach lurched. “I think I’m going to be sick.” She bolted, best she could
around the tables and racks, to the two-piece washroom off her back office. The
economy-issue sink groaned when she slammed against it. The first ripple of
heaving took possession of her body, bile heating its way up her throat, though
it didn’t have the decency to make an exit. Tears were another story.

Light knocking rattled the door. “Let me in to help you.”

“Go away.”

“She didn’t blow me and I didn’t fuck her.” This time he
tried the handle.

“Stay out,” she said, throwing her weight against the door
when it opened a crack. Her five-foot-three, one-hundred-fifteen-pound frame
was no match for a six-foot, muscular, determined man. From her experience in
that alley two years ago, she knew this all too well.

Travis pushed in, filled the tiny space with his broad
shoulders and broody demeanor. There wouldn’t have been room to bend over and
puke had she been able to.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me or understand. I don’t
deserve either one.”

“Then why did you tell me…so you had an easy reason to end
things with me?”

“That’s the last thing I wanted.” He pounded a fist against
the doorframe, hard enough to vibrate the walls.

She shrank back, an instinctive response. Travis had muscles
aplenty, she’d never doubted his strength or power, though all he’d ever been
with her was gentle or sexy. He wouldn’t hurt her. Her logical brain, her gut
and heart knew it—her damaged areas did not.

“I’m sorry.”

Sorry for scaring her, sorry for being unfaithful, sorry
he’d told her at all? At this point, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the
answer, so she swallowed the question. “What now?” she whispered against the
thick silence hanging between them.

A shrug accompanied his slow exhale of breath. “You deserve
better than me.”

“Meaning…”

“I leave.”

“As in, no coming back?”

The lips she’d become addicted to kissing pulled to a taut
line. Hands that’d touched her all over, magically and skillfully, clenched
into fists at his sides. “It’s the only way to guarantee I won’t hurt you
again.”

A large sob bubbled in her chest. “I’m not—asking—for
guarantees.” The words came between choppy breaths. So much for self-respect.

“Shit.” He muttered the curse while wrapping his arms around
her. His palms skimmed her back.

She pressed her cheek to the woolen coat keeping her from
his soothing heartbeat. Thank god, oh thank god…

“I thought I could change, sweetheart. God knows I want to,
but last night proves that I can’t.” His fingers moved to hers and began prying
them loose. “The first sign of trouble and I fell back into being a prick. I’ve
spent so long being that way, it’s become my true nature. As much as I want to
stay here with you, where I’m a decent guy with the most amazing girlfriend and
the world is just about us, I can’t. And outside of this bubble, I’m no good.
Not for anyone, and especially not for somebody special like you.”

No, dear god no. He held her an arm’s length away while she
failed to hold her emotions in check. Tears tracked down her cheeks. They
dropped from her chin and nose, dotting her blouse like raindrops. Her breath
hitched in short, shallow gulps. This is what she got for letting him in—into
her apartment, into her bedroom and the worst spot of all, her heart.

“I should go, so you can—”

“Fall apart in private?” she bit out.

He groaned, removing his hand as he did. The last
contact—gone. “I have a buddy who’s an electrical whiz and he owes me a favor.
His name’s Tom. I’ll call him to come by and look at your door, see if he can
get it working.”

“Great.” Her heart twisted at his relieved expression, the
sharp edge of her pain morphing into a blade she wanted to poke him with until
it stung. “Tell me, Travis,” she said, hoping the use of his name would hurt,
even if only a little. “Is your friend single? Is he hot? Does he like playing
Scrabble, namely the dirty kind? Since I’m back on the market and all.”

His eyes flickered. Anger, regret? Whatever it was
disappeared as quickly as it had flared, leaving nothing but cool, deep hazel.
“No idea, Calli. Guess you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

Chapter Ten

Saturday night had been rough. Sunday equally as bad. After
using up all available tears, the anger had set in. Travis had said she
deserved better than him, and damn it, he’d been right. Yes, her panic disorder
meant there’d be limitations in their relationship. But really, what
relationship didn’t have them? So what if she never went out after dark? They
could’ve gone places during the day. It wasn’t as if she’d asked him to stay in
with her each and every night. He’d truly been an asshole. At least he’d had
the decency to be an honest one.

At first, she’d been tempted to ditch the pills, curl into
the fetal position and never leave her bed. Somehow, though, a scrap of hope
had pushed through the rubble Travis’ confession and subsequent departure
created. That old saying that things will look better in the morning was
bullshit, pretty much. The one about the wrath of a woman scorned, on the other
hand…kind of on the money. She took the anger welling in her gut and aimed it
at that feeble sprout. Travis or no Travis, she would fight her fear and win.
She’d rejoin the world that existed after sundown.

Today was day five. She hadn’t so much as fought back a
sniffle—things were looking up. A good sign that her heart was on the mend. The
pills were having an effect, and not just in the swinging-between-foggy-and-edgy-side-effect
way. At nine last night she’d walked all the way to the lamppost with Charming.
Without hyperventilating…too much. Only fifteen or so feet, but it’d been fully
dark. A huge accomplishment, if she did say so herself. And yes, her first impulse
had been to tell Travis about it. She hadn’t given in to it—that was what
counted.

“Hey, girl,” Caitlyn said as she breezed through the front
door for her evening shift. She stopped abruptly, hand frozen on the zipper of
her stylish black leather jacket. “You look great today.”

Calli understood it for the sincere compliment Caitlyn had
intended. Another sign that things were changing, she was changing. Not too
long ago she would’ve taken Caitlyn’s comment the opposite way, dwelled on the
negative—on the implication that most days, her gorgeous sister thought Calli
looked like crap.

“Doesn’t my sister look amazing?” This time, Caitlyn wasn’t
talking to her.

Calli’s eyes lifted to the man who’d walked in. Tall but not
ridiculously so, brown hair sticking out under a ball cap and a beard that
bordered on bushy. Not ugly, but not a man she’d look twice at. Yet something
about him made a blip on her radar. Maybe it was the way he looked past
Caitlyn, the bombshell in the room, straight to the spot Calli stood. He
appraised her, every inch, before pulling the peak of his hat lower over his
face. Embarrassed, was he? That was kind of endearing.

“Yeah, she sure does.”

A compliment…about her. She’d take it. Especially these
days. “Are you shopping for a holiday gift?” Calli asked.

“Uh, no. Not really.”

Nothing new or unusual about this scenario, not to Calli or
Caitlyn. Plenty of people came in to buy stuff for personal use. Easing
customers through their initial discomfort at shopping for intimate items was
an important part of the job. Men were more difficult, in Calli’s experience.
Sometimes they left red-faced and empty-handed. Not until she’d given it her
best shot, though. Starting with a verbal tour of the store and general
information usually worked best.

“Clothing geared to the male physique is on the west wall.
All of our feminine items come in a range of sizes that can accommodate most
shapes and body types, and we’ve fitted
all
kinds of people, so don’t be
shy.” His eyes bugged out at that and she had to bite back a smile. “Costumes,
role-play gear, toys and accessories are in the rear of the store. Oh, and our
glass is tinted so you can shop in privacy.”

“Yeah, uh…” His eyes darted around, never landing on any
product long enough to show a modicum of interest. The venting, windows and
doors seemed to be more interesting.

Calli gave him a closer inspection for hints to his
character. Well-worn, tan twill bomber jacket, the kind you’d see on a
blue-collar worker. Faded jeans with a smear of grease across one thigh. Work
boots.

Of course…he was an electrician, the parting gift Travis had
offered up for cracking her heart in two.

“Oh. Are you…Tom, Travis’ friend?” She let her shopgirl face
relax and extended her right hand. “I’m Calli, his—” How to label herself…ex-girlfriend,
one-week fling? “This is my store. I appreciate you taking the time to look at
my broken door buzzer.”

Something flickered in his brown eyes. His hand lifted,
hesitated, then clasped hers solidly. “Yeah, that’s me. Travis’ buddy. Shoulda
said so when I walked in. I guess seeing how pretty you are made me forget why
I was here.”

“No problem.” Flattery was nice, but awkward coming from a
guy who was friends with her ex. She smiled while trying to extract her hand.
Tom kept hold longer than necessary for a casual introduction, more firmly than
appropriate for a man attempting a personal connection. A chill skittered along
her spine before manifesting into a full-body outward shudder.

Now it was Tom who smiled.

Oh, that was just gross.

No big shocker that Travis associated with some
less-than-charming types. If Tom could solve her technical issue, though,
either for free or cheap, she’d grit her teeth through his creepy handholding
and scrub her palm after he left.

“Did you bring tools, or…?”

“Tools, yeah. They’re in my car. I’ll go get them.”

She released a long breath after the door closed behind him.
Hopefully he’d pinpoint the problem and fix it quickly. Tom was definitely not
a guy she’d invite to play Scrabble, not even an innocent game. Travis’ fury
when she’d suggested she might hit on his friend so made no sense. He had to
know Tom’s demeanor would give her the willies. Maybe Travis hadn’t cared as
much as she’d thought.

“I think you should make yourself scarce while that Tom guy
is checking things out. I didn’t like the way he looked at you, Cal. Do you
think Travis told him stuff about you—you know, dirty stuff?”

She couldn’t picture it, Travis dishing out sex stories
about her, especially not to a guy like this Tom. Then again, she wouldn’t have
pictured him being unfaithful with some slut in a bar. So, who knew?

“You don’t mind if I leave you to deal with him?”

“Puh-lease,” Caitlyn said, flapping a hand. “I’ve dealt with
scummier guys plenty of times. Go upstairs and have dinner or whatever. I’ll
text you when the coast is clear.”

“I think I’ll take Charming out for a walk.”

Caitlyn’s eyebrows lifted. She glanced out the window, then
back to Calli. “It’ll be twilight soon.”

“I can see that.” The churning in her stomach sounded
between them. Not fear, she wouldn’t let it be. “Maybe I’ll sneak him into the
coffee shop and grab a sandwich too.”

“Text me if you need me to lock up for a few minutes…if you
get stuck out there, you know?”

Always willing to come to her rescue. How many people could
count on their siblings the way Calli could? She squeezed Caitlyn’s hand, an
unspoken thanks for the support. “I will, but I won’t.”

Tom reappeared with a dirty cardboard box full of tools and
a thin-lipped smile. Thousands of imaginary bugs crawled over Calli’s skin.
Thank god for her sister—again. In a way, thanks to Tom too, for creeping her
out enough to leave the building with nighttime approaching. Motivation came in
all kinds of packages these days.

“I have to step out, but Caitlyn can help you with any
questions you have.” She couldn’t even lie and say it was nice to meet him.
Ick. “Thanks for taking a look at the door.”

* * * * *

By the time Calli plopped onto her bed, everything ached,
from her toes that’d been crammed into fancy shoes for thirteen hours to her
cheeks from nonstop courtesy smiling.

Tom had finished with the door—now back to its proper
buzzing—and cleared out before she’d returned from her walk. Hallelujah on both
counts. The store had been packed with other people, though. The buying kind.
Okay, not wall-to-wall packed like the big-name chain stores with their
monstrous banners and buy-two-get-one-free promotions, but solidly bustling. A
quick check of the email showed that the web store had been equally busy. All
things seemed to be on the upswing, thank god.

Not surprisingly, Mr. Right Magnum Eight was a hit,
especially online. Of the twenty-four she’d gotten in last week, she’d sold all
but one. Well, two, if you counted the one in her top dresser drawer. He was
good to have around, Mr. Right, a real stress reliever. A friend in a time of
need. He’d helped her get to sleep without crying twice this week. Any toy that
could pull that off deserved his—
its
—five-star rating. Probably wasn’t
healthy to think of a sex toy as a
him
. Too much of that and she’d need
a prescription for delusionism, if that was even a real word, let alone a
condition.

She worked her blouse buttons free of their holes. The crisp
cotton slid down her sides, tickling goose bumps to attention. Her nipples
tightened inside the bra. The sensation in her breasts traveled a straight line
to her core. No sex for years and she’d managed just fine. Then Travis had come
along and stirred the pot, cranking up her libido a bazillion percent.

She trailed her fingertips across her midriff. Unzipped the
side opening on her skirt and skimmed her fingers over the lacy front of her
panties. The need for release tugged at her but it was too much effort. If
Travis were here, he’d divest her of these pesky clothes—kiss, lick and suck her
until she didn’t have a solid bone left in her body. Damn him.

Too beat to stand, she did the horizontal shimmy out of her
pencil skirt and stockings. The bed was so soft beneath her, maybe she’d leave
it at that. Close her eyes and sleep in her bra and undies.

No, she needed to haul herself to a sitting position and
fire off an order to the supplier. If she sent it tonight, she’d be swimming in
synthetic cocks by midday Monday. She giggled as she pictured it—her, sitting
amongst a puddle of assorted dildos, maybe some fancy vibrators and colorful
butt plugs for variety. God, she needed sleep, and bad. But she needed product
more.

Little dog trotting at her heels, she dragged herself to the
living room and cracked open the laptop. The preset windows opened in her
browser—email and Wordloverz. Travis had dirty-Scrabbled his way into her life
only to resign the game. She hadn’t called, texted or played with him since,
but she always checked for him online. His avatar never popped up as available.
The inactivity had given her hope the first couple times…until she thought on
it more. If he wasn’t online, he was probably out, playing his guitar for
masses of adoring women. Or at home, fucking them.

But tonight he showed as logged in. Her pulse notched up.
The red
invite
button might as well’ve filled the whole screen, such was
its beacon-like effect on her. God help her, she clicked it, without giving it
a second thought. So much for self-respect. Ditto for getting over him. Maybe
he’d decline the game, cyber-hoof her to the curb, to go with the face-to-face
dumping.

The site’s virtual host appeared, holding a card that read,
Travis
has accepted your invitation
.
It’s your move.
The animated character
winked at her, then slid off the screen, essentially leaving her alone with
Travis. Now what…play as if nothing had happened or logout before she did
something more foolish?

Travis leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen. As if
staring would make something happen, make some adorable comment magically
appear in the message window. A minute ticked by. Maybe less, maybe more,
either way, it felt like an hour. He didn’t deserve this game with Calli.
Hadn’t expected it’d ever happen. That hadn’t stopped him from checking the
damn website five times a day, every day. Now that he had her online, he didn’t
intend to let the opportunity pass. Even if that made him more of a selfish
dick than he already was.

Your move, sweetheart.

No response popped up, but she hadn’t left the game, either.
Still hope. At least for the next hour’s time.

He swiped his cell from the side table and brought up a
picture. Calli sitting cross-legged on her bed, long hair covering most of her
black bra. Her pretty eyes stared out of the phone at him. She had a bowl of
chips in her lap and a fistful of cards. He’d suggested strip poker that night.
She’d countered with strip Go Fish. They’d never finished the game but he’d
definitely been the winner that night. All of the nights.

He scrolled through the shots he had—four she’d submitted to
plus the two he’d snuck when she wasn’t paying attention. She hadn’t wanted him
to take any. Not photogenic, didn’t want to break the camera on his phone,
she’d said. Crazy talk. He could’ve taken a hundred and it still wouldn’t be
enough.

Her opening move appeared on the board.
Dare
, for
five points. And a message to go with her pointed word.
Care to make the
game interesting?

Having you across the board makes this the most
interesting thing I’ve done all week.
Sucking up, damn right, but also the
truth.

Somehow I doubt that.

Ouch. He had that coming. Calli’d been willing to forgive
his fuck-up. He’d refused, partly out of guilt, partly because he believed it
would happen again. Wanting something different hadn’t been enough to kill his
old instinct to be a player. His behavior last Friday had made him think he
couldn’t change. And yet, on Saturday night, after Black Box’s gig, merely
looking around at the readily available women—and at Victor—puke had risen in
his throat. Changing his ways was a choice. One he was ready and committed to
make.