On His Turf (13 page)
“Egyptian pyramid workers were paid with beer and the oldest known recipe for beer is over four thousand years old. At any given time 0.7% of the world is drunk and they say the world’s longest hangover lasted four weeks when a Scotsman consumed over sixty pints of beer.” As the Brew Master spouts off a few more ridiculous facts Shane grinds his length into my ass and I have to slap my hand over my mouth to stifle a moan. The Brew Master stops speaking and gives me a funny look and Shane clears his throat.
“Sorry, I think I’m just really thirsty,” I say weakly but he seems to buy it because he leads us back up to the taproom and sets us up with another tasting flight before disappearing into the back. We sit side by side at one of the long picnic tables and Shane inches as close as he can and presses his thigh against my leg.
“If I didn’t think he was coming back I’d take you right now on top of this table,” Shane whispers and I giggle as I sip at one of the dark ales.
“I can’t believe you did this for me. Way over the top, but thank you,” I say shyly, looking down at the table.
“I like doing things for you,” he says simply, leaning forward to kiss my shoulder. The gesture is so sweet that it makes my heart split right open and I turn to kiss him, pulling his full bottom lip into my mouth. He makes a soft noise as I suck on it before plunging my tongue into his mouth. He stays very still, letting me take the lead and so I crawl into his lap and loop my arms around my neck while my tongue continues its exploration of his mouth. I can feel his heart beating rapidly and a low hum emits from his chest before his hands come under my butt to lift me up.
“You drive me crazy and I want to tear the clothes right off of you and sink into you right here.”
I keep on kissing him as I run my fingers through his hair and when I tug on the ends he rockets right up from the table with me in his arms.
“You have to stop, Carmelina,” he pants adding, “or I will be arrested for public indecency.”
He sounds like he’s being serious so I let my legs slide down his body until I’m standing on the floor.
“So where to next?” I say, tugging down my tank top to give him a better view and his eyes darken at the movement.
“I’m holding on by a very thin thread here, babe. Remember that,” he groans pulling me into a firm hug and burying his nose in the crook of my neck.
I laugh against his chest before I speak. “I’ll try my best to remember.” I spin away and give my hips an exaggerated shake as I head for the door and I think I hear him groan behind me.
Next he takes me to the Longhorn; a run-down honky-tonk bar on the south side with a huge dance floor that’s always filled with an eclectic mix of senior citizens two-stepping, hipsters and real-deal cowboys. It’s dark and a little dank inside but the place has a long musical history so it always attracts the best bands. The beer here is cheap and definitely not as tasty but it’s refreshing after we take a few turns on the dance floor. It’s a country rock vibe tonight and the place is shoulder to shoulder. I look down at the sheen of sweat that’s formed across my breasts and scrunch up my nose. Maybe not the best idea for a first date but I’m having too much fun to care. Shane follows my eyes and he hitches his foot under my stool to pull me closer, then his tongue darts out and licks all the way up from the crevice between my breasts to my collar bone.
“I like it when you sweat. You taste good.” His voice at my ear is rough and hard and it sends my pulse off racing.
“So have you given any thought to Salt Lake City?” he shouts over the music as he licks another trail along my neck. He’s talking about the plane ticket he sent me last week. I already called the airline to try and return it but apparently it’s non-refundable.
“I’m not going. I can’t accept the ticket.”
“Why not?”
“It probably cost a lot of money and it’s not right.”
“It’s my money so what does it matter?” he challenges.
“It matters,” I say, averting my eyes.
“Come on babe; it’s important to me. It’s my old team so that adds a lot of pressure. You’d be there as my lucky charm.” His voice is pleading and I don’t want to look at him because if I do I know that I’ll cave.
“I don’t know…it seems kind of sudden.”
“It’s only a plane ride. I’ll even book you your own room. Just promise me you’ll think about it. Please?” he begs and the second that I look up into his eyes I know that I’m lost. I agree to think about it and he smiles like he’s already won. We’ll see about that.
***
An hour later he drops me back off at home and I debate inviting him in but before I can muster up the courage he’s already backing away from the door. I must look surprised because he stops and scrubs a hand down his face. “Don’t give me those big, wounded eyes or I’ll be inside your apartment and inside of you before you even close the door.”
“Then what…” I start to say but he cuts me off.
“What happened Friday night was amazing but I’m trying to do right by you so you’ve got to let me walk away. I promised you dates and I’m going to take you on dates.” His voice sounds strained and he’s not looking at me so I make a noise of agreement then spin around to open my door.
“Dammit.” He places his hands behind his head and looks at the sky. “This place is really unsafe and I don’t feel comfortable with you staying here.”
“Well this is where I live so I guess it will just have to do,” I say and my cheeks heat with hurt and anger. What right does he have to criticize my home?
“Come on, I don’t mean it like that. I’d just feel better if you came home with me. I swear I won’t touch you.”
“You insult my place and promise to leave me sexually frustrated? Wow what a compelling offer but no thanks I’m fine,” I say sarcastically as I move to open my door but he grabs the knob and holds it closed.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I feel like I’m losing my mind here,” he says, sighing heavily. “I’m only trying to protect you. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”
“I’ve lived here for more than five years now and I’ve managed just fine so back off,” I say shortly and he steps away from the door.
“Okay, okay. I’m going. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I have to work.”
“Tell me where you work and I’ll come to you,” he tries and I glare at him.
“I’ll tell you when I’m ready to share.”
“Why the big secret?” he challenges, his eyes flashing.
“It’s not a secret,” I falter. “I just don’t want you showing up and distracting me.”
“I’ll find out soon enough.” He sounds confident and I mentally cross my fingers that he won’t. “What about Tuesday?” he tries again.
“Shane…”
“Fine Wednesday but that’s the longest I can do,” he says seriously as I gaze into his warm brown eyes. His mouth twitches like he’s trying to suppress a smile so I can’t help the one that spreads across my face.
“Fine, Wednesday,” I agree and he kisses me quickly then ushers me inside. I don’t hear him leave until I lock the deadbolt behind me and even though I’m still a little sore from his comments I can’t help but be a little touched by his concern for my safety.
***
It’s my third trip back to the bar to in the last twenty minutes because the bachelor party that’s occupying three tables is downing shots faster than Matty can pour them.
“At least tips will be good tonight,” I say, trying to find the silver-lining in what’s otherwise turning out to be a rough night.
“Mmmhmm…” Matty says noncommittally. “But watch out for grabby hands.” He tilts his chin at the guys behind me as he transfers the last of the tequila on to my tray. I’m about to go when he grabs my wrist.
“You still haven’t told me what happened after the club,” he says accusingly and I avoid his gaze. He’s not wrong - I have been dodging him and I haven’t told him about tubing or the brewery date either because I am afraid of what he might say.
“Customers to serve, remember?” I say, gesturing to the rowdy table.
“You can’t avoid me all night,” he narrows his eyes and I sigh and sit down on the stool. “Friday was…amazing,” I say, “but it was a mistake.”
“So you got laid did you?” he crosses his arms over his chest and I can’t read the tone of his voice at all.
“Shut up, Matty.”
“It’s about time, honey.”
“If you feel that way then why are you giving me such a hard time?” I get up from the seat, balancing my tray on one arm.
“I’m glad you are having fun. I’m only worried about where this is heading.”
“Why does it have to be heading anywhere?” I shrug. “So we went out on one date, what’s the big deal?”
“You went out with him too? Shit, Carm, I thought this was just fucking. If you believe that this is no big deal then you are only fooling yourself. Since when have you done casual?” he argues.
“Since when have I done anything? I’ve had like two boyfriends in the last five years Matty and neither of those relationships lasted longer than six months!” I shout and an old man at the end of the bar looks over.
“So where does the jockstrap think you are tonight?” Matty calls me out and I flush with embarrassment. He pestered me with texts last night asking about my second job so I came up with a quick lie and told him that I work at a sports bar called Yagger’s located about forty five minutes out of town. I have my fingers crossed he won’t call me on it or try to visit.
“It’s none of his business,” I snap back.
“You should probably just tell him the truth so that it doesn’t blow up in your face later. Either he can handle it or he can’t but one way or another he has to know.” Matty gives me a look and I glare back.
“I’m not telling him. We are just having fun so what’s the point? Besides, it’s not a big deal - it’s not like I’m up there dancing. That was a one-time thing!” I tug my short skirt down my thighs and turn toward the tables.
“Whatever you say, Carm,” He says to my back as I make my way over to the very thirsty bachelor party.
Shane and I see each other almost every day over the next week. I don’t know how we manage it between my two jobs and his practice schedule but he’s relentless like that. He takes me to a movie and lets me pick a romantic comedy; we shoot pool and go for a bike ride around Lady Bird Lake. I try to cook him dinner at my place one of the days but it quickly devolves into a heavy make out session and he still seems hell bent on getting to know each other before we sleep together again. For a self-professed non-dater he sure seems to love going on dates. The following Sunday he takes me to brunch and the farmer’s market and I learn more about his family. He tells me that he has two nineteen year old twin brothers and his face completely lights up when he talks about him. He has a stay-at-home mother and his father is a pediatric heart surgeon specializing in pre-term births. When he describes to me how his dad performs surgeries with tiny cameras on hearts no bigger than the tip of his pinkie I think I melt just a little more inside. It’s clear from the way he talks about them how much he loves his family and it makes me wish I had happier stories to tell about mine. I still see my mother, though as little as I can possibly manage, and she only calls me late at night when she’s drunk and feeling mean.
Exactly two Fridays after the night at the club he picks me up from work and tells me that he’s going to teach me to play soccer. I think he’s kidding until he pulls his big truck up to an elementary school and climbs out. I know I’m in trouble with he grabs a ball from the back seat and makes me put on the runners he forced me to bring before leading me out to the field.
“I don’t even know what the rules are,” I huff and he squints at me.
“I am the goalie so I can pick it up in the penalty box. Once I have possession I have six seconds to get it back into play.” He rolls the ball out to me and tells me to kick it.
“Kick it? At you?”
“Yes, babe, kick it at me,” he chuckles and crouches down low. Even though he’s wearing dark jeans I can see the lines of his muscled thighs straining through the material. I give the ball a feeble kick that barely moves and he jogs forward to pick it up then rolls it back out to me.
“Come on, you can do better than that. Try imagining the ball as my face the first time you met me,” he instructs and I grin at him and this time kick it as hard as I can. It lifts up in the air and flies right into his hands.
“Much better but next time don’t kick it right at me. Try for one of the corners,” he explains as he sends the ball out to me one more time.
“I thought it was pretty good,” I mutter, proud that I at least got it off the ground. When I can at work I’ve been going online to try and learn a bit about soccer so I have some idea what he’s talking about all the time. One article I read said that goalkeepers are known to be fearless athletes who are not afraid to take the hard hits when diving for balls. Another article said that one of their greatest strengths of a good goalkeeper is having the confidence not to give up which sounds just like Shane. The article also said the best goalies have command, focus and good judgment and on that note I figure two out of three isn’t bad. He jogs out and shows me how to kick it with the inside of my foot and I ask him if he knows how to play other positions.
“Of course, but goalkeeper is the best by far.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the last man standing and the only one who can bail out the defense and make that perfect save. My three rules are: don’t get caught in a bad position, know how to handle the ball and have quick reflexes…the rest is all heart.”
He speaks so passionately about the game it makes me feel a little bad for my lack of enthusiasm so I focus all my attention on the ball. I’m concentrating hard and I’m about to kick it when he steps in front of me. He steals the ball from me and rests his foot on top of it.
“It’s always important to read the other player; is she left footed or right footed?” he says kneeling down and running his hands up my bare legs until they hit the hem of my skirt. “It’s also important to figure out which way she shoots; which way is her waist pointing?” His hands continue their slow climb and wrap around my waist to squeeze my ass. He stands and his hands come up even further to cup my face. “But mostly importantly it’s her eyes; where are they looking? The eyes tell you everything.” I open my mouth to speak but he silences me with a slow, sexy kiss. When he pulls away he keeps my face cradled in his hands and tilts my head up.
