The Men of CLE-FD updated (10 page)

She nodded not making face contact with him.  “When you grow up poor you dream of living the life of the rich and famous.  I was good with it the first couple of years, but I missed my family.  I missed spending holidays with my sisters and eating real food.  The simple task of decorating a Christmas tree by myself and not some esteemed interior decorator doing it, I missed.”

Her weak smile made him feel a little better.  “Well, that explains the fruit and dry bread for breakfast.  You adapted to the lifestyle of those surrounding you.”

“There was no way I could pig out on cheeseburgers and fries while the anorexic wife or girlfriend of my husband’s clients ate celery sticks and carrots.  But boy could they throw back the martinis—no calories in those.”

 Cathy returned to the table placing the water in dingy ginger-colored plastic glasses on the table first.  Then a plate of steak and eggs with a side of crispy hash browns in front of Orlando and slid Regan’s fruit platter and dry bagel in front of her.  “There you go.  If you need anything else, just whistle,” Cathy said disappearing from the table.

Orlando saw Regan inhale the aroma of his sizzling rib eye steak cooked medium rare.  He cut a small slice off the end, holding it on the tip of his fork.  “There is nothing like a perfectly cooked steak to get the stomach growling.”

Regan licked her lips.  “You’re eating a heavy meal after a workout?”

“I’m in training so I need the protein,” he said teasing her as he stuck the food in his mouth.

Regan swallowed hard as he chewed the meat that looked flavorful, tender, and juicy on his plate.  She pushed around a grape on her plate stabbing it with a fork.  “What are you training for?”

“An event for the Red Cross; I’m running the stairs of Terminal Tower in full gear.”

“Oh geez, that sounds grueling.  Is Anthony doing it with you?”

“Yes he is the three of us were chosen by Cleveland Fire to do it.  My guys will be standing on the sidelines cheering us on; I hope,” he said scooping a forkful of hash brown potatoes in his mouth.

Regan dropped her fork and pulled her checkbook from her purse.  “I want to make a donation.”

He slowed his chew.  “You don’t have to do that.  I’m not asking for donations, I have sponsors.”

“I want to be one of your sponsors,” she said scribbling on the check and tearing it off handing it to him.

He wiped his hands before taking the check.  His eyes widened.  “This is for one thousand dollars.  Regan, are you sure you want to donate this much?”

“Yes and for a bite of your steak.  I’m freaking starving and sick of eating twigs and fruit.”

“Eat up,” he said sliding his plate in her direction and calling for Cathy so he could place another breakfast order.

*****

They left the restaurant with full bellies and better acquainted.  Regan fought the urge to release the button holding her shorts together.  She had not eaten that much in eons and her guts were having a hard time digesting the heavy, greasy food.  She didn’t eat the whole steak, but a good portion of it and some of the eggs and potatoes.

She held the seatbelt with her thumb away from her stomach.  Having it press against her belly moved things about painfully.  The gassy pressure building inside her was looking to escape.  To pass gas in the presence of Orlando or any man was not lady like, but holding it in was painful to the point she wanted to scream for him to pull over the car.

Once Mark became successful she began to eat like a supermodel to keep her figure tight and Mark happy showing her off.  Now that he was gone, she no longer needed to eat as a supermodel but wanted to keep her petite size two figure.  So she continued to eat nearly nothing, and rarely had any meat with her meals.

She suffered in silence as Orlando drove.  The power of the muscle car jerked and shook around her gassy body.  If he hit one more bump, she would be paying to have his car detailed.

The car suddenly came to a stop.  She looked out the window noticing they were in the driveway of a quaint two-story house.  She unhooked the seatbelt instantly getting a release of pressure from around her waist.

“Where are we?”  She asked.

He turned off the car and opened the door.  “I have to make a quick stop at home.  You don’t mind do you?”

“No, not at all,” she said opening the door thankful to get out of the car.

Regan followed him inside the house.  It was quaint and empty of furniture.  The walls scrapped of the basic eggshell color were ready for painting.  She could see the outline where pictures once hung.  There were tools, paint cans and other home improvement items lying around the bare living room floor.

She wandered around spotting the kitchen.  It was big and brightly lit with sun shining through a large window over the sink.  The appliances pulled from the walls and the sink was in pieces on the floor.  The countertops were also missing.

She saw Orlando in the dining room.  “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, it’s down the hall and to the left,” he said gathering a stack of papers.

She found the bathroom in the process of a major remodeling project.  The floor was loose as her foot slipped on a loose piece of tile.  There were boxes of tiles sitting next to the tub.  Orlando must have started remodeling the bathroom and stopped to do something else.  The shower and vanity looked updated in a soft cream beige color.  He had tiled the walls surrounding the shower in similar colors to match the vanity.  “This is going to be nice when he finishes,” she said to herself.

She rejoined him in the dining room feeling a lot better.  The suffocating feeling had passed and she was breathing freely.  “Orlando, do you live here or are you fixing it so you can move in?”

“I’m remodeling it hoping to sell or rent it.”

“It’s a nice house.  Are you into flipping houses?”  She asked admiring his handy work.  Not only was he a lifesaving firefighter, he could build with his hands.  The man was becoming more attractive to her by the second.

“Nope.  This is where I spent the last years of hell of my marriage.  The sooner I get rid of this heap the sooner I get rid of the bad memories for good.  It will feel great not having to set foot in this place ever again.”

“Oh.  So, what happened to cause your marriage to end?”  She asked.  The room was empty creating an echo of their voices.

“Three things happened; tequila, Jack Daniels, and Vodka.  Never mix the three when in Vegas with a person with a deceptive personality, or you’ll end up at the White Chapel marrying the devil in disguise.”

“So your marriage was a mistake.  Why didn’t you get it annulled once you realized what happened?”

His shoulders sagged not wanting to reveal the horrible truth about his marriage, so he improvised.  “I made my bed so I had to lay in it.  We had only been together a short time and tried to make the marriage work.  Only we made each other miserable.”  He took a long tape measure and placed it across the window.  “Can you hold the other end for me?”

Regan stood on her tiptoes holding the flimsy tape measure.  “How did you make each other miserable?”

He made small markings in pencil on the windowsill.  “We weren’t compatible and had nothing in common.  Maggie is the kind of woman who requires constant attention and I’m committed to my job and refused to look for a regular nine to five in order to keep her company.  I got tired of her nagging and she got tired of me not being around and found a replacement for me.”

Regan shook her head thinking who could be a better replacement for him.  She bit her lower lip watching him stretch his muscular body.  The thought of him naked sent a tingle down her spine.  She could only imagine what lay beneath those clothes.  A chiseled man, a well-oiled machine; a man she wanted to taste, touch, and caress from top to bottom.

She slipped into a daydream.  She imagined them lying on a sunny deserted beach.  He would lean over to her, looking at her with those smoldering, hooded eyes and kiss her delicate lips.  His hand would go to her waist, gently caressing her stomach and then unlace the strings holding her bikini bottom together.  Gently he would lie on top of her.  As she grew passionate under him, he’d lift his hands to her breasts and release them from the skimpy bikini top to feast on her aroused nipples.

Her breathing grew short.  “Phew.”  She let escaped her from her lips unconsciously.

He looked over at her.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said with a slow drag and a sly grin while staring at him.

“Regan, are you sure?”

Busted
!

She blinked realizing she’d answered while stuck in the erotic daydream.  “Yeah, never felt better.  Is it warm in here?  I think I will go outside for some air.”  She dropped the end of the tape measure causing it to spring inside the mechanism still in his hand.

 Orlando stepped in front of her blocking her path.  Her forehead bounced against the plane of his chest.  “Ouch.”  She rubbed the spot of the imaginary pain.

“What is really going on with you?  Have I done something to you?”

Heck yeah you’ve done something to me!
“No, you haven’t done anything to me, Orlando.  It’s me.”

“What
IS
you?”  He asked dropping the tape measure on the makeshift table.  It consisted of a long piece of plywood propped between two sawhorses.

“I’m not as blunt as you.  I can’t say what is on my mind.”

“Yeah, you can.  If I have done something to offend you, tell me and let me worry about my feelings getting hurt.”

She sucked in a deep breath wanting to spill her guts.  She told herself it was fear not letting her say what was on her mind.  The fact Orlando didn’t seem interested in her as much as she was in him, meant he would have to explain why, and she didn’t want to face that rejection.

“I’d rather not say what is on my mind,” she said feeling the nervousness prickling at the backs of her knees.

His hands rested on his narrow hips.  Regan could see his lips moving, but her eyes and mind were slowly undressing him.  Why was she having the horny hormone invasion?  Was she trying to be a divorcee who’d bed every man she’d meet?

She leapt to the present when his hands closed around hers.  Somewhere between being lost in her mind and losing sight of him, he had moved to take her hands in his.  His thumbs rubbed across her knuckles.  Regan's heart raced.  She had to get away from him before a repeat of what happened at the beach, happened again.

“Regan, where are you disappearing to?”

She pulled her hands away wiping them down the sides of her shorts.  The carnal sting of his touch burned her hand.  “I get lost in my thoughts sometimes.  I’m deep that way or, crazy as Lincoln calls me.”

“Oh really?”

He held her gaze for a moment too long.  She held her breath thinking what if he was reading her mind or better yet her lie.  He stepped away from her going to the window, she sighed a breath of relief.  The argument with Mark, this morning, should have killed any sexual tension pent inside her only it seemed to intensify her want for Orlando.

She coughed to clear her throat.  “Are you replacing the window or measuring it for a window dressing?”

“I was thinking of putting in a bay window with a seat.  It would give more character to the room.  What do you think?”

“I agree.  A bay window would be perfect.  The owner could put in a garden and sit and watch it grow.”

He smiled displaying a perfect set of teeth.  “I guess I have a little taste.  Now if I could find someone to occupy it, I would be willing to dig the garden myself.”

“What if I rented it from you?”

His head whipped in her direction.  “Come again?”

“I’m serious, Orlando.  I’ve been looking for a place to live.  This house is the right size and would be easy for me to maintain.”

“I don’t know, Regan.  It’s never a good idea to rent to friends.”

Casting a glance at the watch on her wrist, time was moving fast but not fast enough for her.  “You think of me as a friend?”

“Sure do.  You have a friend for life in me.”

“Okay, then let me do this for you—my friend.  I need a place to live so Lincoln can have her privacy.  You have a house you are trying to rent.  You wouldn’t rent me something uninhabitable, would you?”

He kicked over an empty paint bucket.  “I have a lot of work to do.  My shifts are seventy-two off and twenty-four on.  Regan, it will take me a while to finish the work.”

“I’m not rushing you to finish the work.  All I need is a bathroom and a bedroom to sleep in for the time being; the rest will be finished when you have time.  And, I’m not immune to hard work.  I can hammer, paint, and hang wallpaper.”

He tilted his head playfully, “That’s cute you want to help, but those soft dainty hands have not held a hammer in…forever.”

“Care to make a small wager on that?  Say two hundred dollars?” 
Ouch
.  She felt an internal kick from her foot travel to her butt.  Again, her mouth was spewing off without consulting her brain.

He tossed an unopened pack of paint brushes at her feet.  “You have the money to lose?”

She pointed her finger at him.  “I have plenty of money to lose.  You just make sure you have enough to pay me when you lose, buddy.”

“I’m not agreeing to rent you the house but I will put you to work.  My next rotation ends Tuesday.  Be dressed and ready to work when I come get you.  Oh and don’t wear any heels or frilly clothes to hamper your productivity either.  This is hard labor you will be doing.”

“You’re on!  Hard labor is my middle name and I will achieve any task given me,” she said assertively.  She had not done a day of hard labor since her high school job at McDonald’s.  Not only that, she could not paint by numbers or cut paper in a straight line, however, she planned to win this bet.  Her next purchase would be a DIY book to read about home improvements.

“Well, I’m done here,” he said tacking a white cloth to cover the window.  “I will take you to your car unless you have somewhere else to go?”

She lifted her brow.  “We are going shopping remember?”

He laughed aloud.  “You aren’t holding me to that?”