The Science of Loving (45 page)

My face heated as I took one last look around while Mat fastened my seatbelt. The winery was fantastic. It had already been featured in several magazines and blogs. He’d whispered during the grand opening that he’d chosen limestone that matched my complexion, and the early morning and late afternoon sun would make it blush the same way I did when I came. So now, I couldn't look at the gleaming surface without my mind going straight to the gutter.

I fiddle with the ring sparkling on my left hand, making motes of sunlight dance on his cheek as we drove back to San Diego. He’d proposed the first night of our stay over dinner. Unfortunately, the heartfelt proposal, plus the wine from the grand opening and the celebratory blowjobs that followed, had me sentimentally reminiscing about the night we met. Telling him Danny’s friends called him drool worthy had been a mistake. When we returned to our room, he surprised me with a toy bag he’d secretly packed just in case—according to him—my yes needed some persuasion.

At one point, after intriguing me into trying something called bondage tape, he stood over my bound body claiming he was Ivan Pavlov. Then he strapped a remote controlled device over of my clitoris, explaining that he needed empirical data to support his theory on Classical Conditioning, and the device would be used to quote: ‘stimulate vaginal salivation whenever he said the word ‘Sweetness.’ Then—Oh My God—he turned it on.

He even used that damned voice of his to get me to walk around wearing the damn thing. Over the next few days, he said ‘sweetness’ often, and at the most inopportune times—
if they don’t make something like that for guys, I just might have to re-purpose the toaster. He’s definitely due for some payback.

Traffic was light and we made good time, arriving home in little over an hour. I was puzzled when he parked on the street rather than pulling inside. “I’ve got one more surprise for you.”

I shivered when I noticed the cloth he was stroking
—look at me. I want you to have a good look at what you’re gonna to get before I take your sight from you.
“I’m not sure I can handle any more surprises.”

“Trust me baby, you can take it.” He knotted the cloth snuggly behind my head then adjusted the front until there were only slivers of light by my nose. “Sit tight a minute.”

He left me anxious and squirming. Then I heard a door rattle. Seconds later the car door opened and he carefully guided me into the building. We were in what I assumed was the ground floor of his warehouse. But instead of smelling concrete, engine oil and metal, I smelled wood shavings and fresh paint. Not only that, someone’s stifled giggle told me we weren’t alone.

“Angie, several months ago a very wise woman told me, ‘When your love is too great for words, say it with a grand gesture.’ So baby, this is my grand gesture, my promise to love all of you.”

The blindfold slid off and I was stunned. We were in the middle of a beautifully appointed workshop with my dad’s tools artfully arranged on a custom crafted workbench—even Daddy’s ugly couch looked—well, not so ugly. And everyone was here: Daddy, Mat’s family, all our friends. Tears started rolling down my cheeks.

“I love you babe,” Mat whispered.

“I love you too.” I sniffed, hugging him with all my strength, listening to the thud of his heart. I even refrained from wiping my nose on his shirt.

“Holy shit, look at the size of that rock!” Les broke the silence as only she can. Then everyone started congratulating us.

I looked around while Daddy laughed, helping Stewart pour champagne, and Carmen and Danny set out trays filled with tamales and rice.

Where once there had been bare concrete floors and grey institutional walls, there was now a raised kitchenette and lounge holding Daddy’s not so ugly sofa. A glowing coffee table that could’ve been carved from a huge piece of amber sat in front of a it, and there was a ridiculously large flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Above it hung a weird chandelier with lots of tiny lights that looked like—
oh my God! Fruit flies. Well, if they were super-sized.

Mat wrapped himself around me. “That part’s for me when you’re busy tinkering, and the upstairs gets too lonely.” Shit, I would not start crying again. His grin turned sheepish when I notice the punching bag hanging off to one side with its chain attached to a rail. “For when I piss you off. It slides out. You can work all that naked aggression out of your system; then look, there’s a nearby sofa perfect for makeup sex.”

I blushed filled with happiness. I no longer lurked on the fringes; I lived in the middle, surrounded by people who still loved me even when they didn’t get me. And it was all because of him, this beautiful man.

“Jack designed that area.” Across the room, I noticed a track mounted shop hoist and the prettiest engine stand parked underneath.

“Yeah, and I’m trying to convince him to come work with us,” Tom said as Daddy gave me a cup of champagne and a kiss. He was also trying to convince Mat to open a commercial division, and give Max a second chance. He said they’d been unfairly holding him back, and they’d been friends too long to let a lowlife like Avery wreck everything.

“Thanks Sweet-cheeks,” Mat said, taking the cup Tom offered with a smile, and presented the side of his face for a kiss as well.

“Whatever Cupcake.” Tom grinned pinching his cheek then added a slap.

“All right, everyone—if I could have your attention for a moment,” Daddy said. “I’d like to propose a toast. To my daughter and future son-in-law. Baby girl, you’ve always… always, been my pride and joy… My world.” Daddy faltered and swallowed. “The day you were born was the day I started living.” He nodded to Mat. “You chose well. I know you’re in good hands. And Mat, I’ll be watching, so you’d better take good care of her.” He glared at him for a moment then his lips twitched. “Or I’ll sic Carmen on you.”

I think we were all a little choked up by the time he finished. It was a bittersweet moment; a part of me felt like I was abandoning him, and my happiness was tinged with guilt. I worried about him being alone.

The one person I didn't miss was my mother which I suppose is sad in its own way. I hadn’t realized how dark her shadow had been until it was gone. She was back east now, living with a new husband—I think he’d made his money in banking—she’s tried contacting me a few times since that horrible day, but I haven’t returned her calls. And, although Detective Ledesma couldn’t find any evidence linking her or Avery to Daddy’s accident, he had his suspicions.

Fortunately, there was plenty of evidence from Avery’s other crimes to get him off the streets for a long time. The confession helped as well. Thinking the statute of limitations would save him, he’d made a deal. Not realizing, that although the statute for manslaughter had run out, he could still be charged with vehicular homicide—turned out he was the one driving the night of Max’s accident. Unaware that he also needed Tom’s and Mat’s signature, he’d slipped something into Max’s drink, hoping to get him to sign an agreement with some big developer.

Was that a car—Holy Smokes! That’s a car lift!
Mat laughed as I damn near wiped out racing across the bay to give my new muscle some love, wistfully stroking all that enameled hardness. “Why the sad eyes, babe?”

“I have all these major power tools and no clunker.” I might have been whining just a little.

“Well, I was kinda hoping we could work on one together.”

“Uh uh. No way. I’ll fix it up for you, but you’re not touching my tools. We can’t afford the insurance.”

“Baby, I may not be a jack-of-all-trades, but I am master of one. Since my earlier tool demonstration obviously left you underwhelmed, I’ll have to redouble my efforts.”
Uh oh
. “Sweetness…”
Oh
s
hit! Stupid remote control.

To my readers

This is my first title. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I intentionally published it DRM free. Please feel free to lend it to your friends, but please don’t upload it to a file-sharing service. I would like to keep my future titles DRM free, and I can only do that with your help.

Finally, I would really love to hear from you. Did you love it/ hate it? What did I get right or wrong? Here’s a link to my Amazon author’s page
http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00N05FF66
I would also appreciate a review if you are so inclined. It doesn’t have to be “War and Peace,” just a few lines good or bad. Reviews or the lack of, can make or break a book, and as a new indie author, I need all the help I can get.

Thanks for reading… Candace.

P.S. No one’s perfect. I will endeavor to correct any errors brought to my attention. You can email me at:
[email protected]

I started artistically late in life. My parents cautioned me to stay away from art related careers. Instead I should pursue a serious occupation that would lead to a “real job and a stable career,” which I did by becoming a metrologist. When thirty years later, a pesky thing called ethics got in the way of my career (I have them,) I decided to try my hand at writing.

Born in Seattle, Washington, growing up as the daughter of an engineer, it is small wonder that I ended up pursuing a career in the sciences. During my childhood we traveled across the United States as my father moved from one project to the next, finally finishing up in Charlotte, North Carolina.

After working at a series of bars and restaurants earning $1.65/hr + tips, I came to the realization that a girl with only a high school diploma and no skills, no matter how intelligent or hard working, would always be waiting tables. So I enlisted United States Army where met my metrologist husband of thirty years and traveled the world before settling together in southern California to raise our three beautiful children.

My interest in the visual arts was recently revived shortly after my father’s death in 2007 when I inherited his French easel, paints and brushes; none of which had been used since he was a student at the University of Washington during the 1950’s. Since then I’ve been experimenting with various oil painting mediums, themes and techniques. Some of my work can be seen at:
http://candacevianna.weebly.com/