The Sweet Under His Skin (24 page)

She was embarrassed. Humiliated. Mortified. And still really turned on. Arielle squeezed her eyes shut, dug her nails into her palms and forced herself to pull it together. Racing into the house in tears and refusing to speak was hardly a constructive activity. She had to grow up.

She stood, made sure her clothes were properly arranged, then pulled the door open. "It's nothing," she whispered, the emotion in her voice totally betraying her.

"What did he do?" Aunt Thelma did look ready for battle.

"Nothing. He didn't do anything wrong. That's the problem," she whimpered as her face crumbled up.

"What happened, honey?"

"He wanted me. I really thought he did."

"So why are you over here?"

"He said…we shouldn't do it."

Aunt Thelma's eyes widened. "Oh dear."

"Tried to tell me it wasn't because of the surgery but…he wanted me, Aunt Thelma. I could…I could tell," she said, not so ambiguously that Thelma wouldn't get her meaning.

"But he's worried about you," Thelma finished.

"That's what he said."

"Oh dear," she said for the second time. "It's more serious than I thought."

"What?"

"He cares about you, Arielle. It's not just about a fun roll-in-the-hay. I'm sorry, that's what I thought was going on with you two. I mean, usually you don't get kissed like that if it's more than attraction but I guess…not all men are created equal."

She covered her face. "Aunt Thelma!"

"What? I'm sorry. I really thought that was it. But he cares, Arielle. That's something else entirely." Her face softened when she pulled Arielle's hands away. "Honey, that's a good thing, too. It's nice to know someone cares about my niece, other than just me. I think he could take good care of you."

"Are you insane? I'm…sick."

"And getting better."

"Thelma, I'm…dying." Thelma looked like Arielle had struck her. "I am," Arielle kept going, voice shaking, the dam broken and all kinds of shit flooding out. "There's no getting involved with someone that's going to die. That's insane."

"Arielle, you're going to get through—"

"I'm not going to kick this because I'm not strong enough. I'm not special enough to have that happen for me. And everyone hoping that I get better is…going to be horribly disappointed, even if it is only two people in the whole world."

Thelma shut the door, turned around just in time to see Arielle retreat to the corner to curl up in a ball and wait to die. "Listen to me," Thelma whispered. "I don't know what you're going through. You know that. Calvin doesn't know what you're going through. That man next door certainly doesn't know. But don't make the rest of us feel guilty for that."

"Why do I have to make everyone else feel better?"

"You don't, Arielle. You have to count on us for support and know that we're here for you." She just covered her face. "And you're not allowed to make us feel bad for caring about you. That is one thing you do not get to do." Arielle dropped her hands, so shocked she had no idea what to say. She even stopped crying. "You keep this up and it's going to piss me off, but I can deal with it. I'm an adult. You will scare the shit out of Calvin with it, though. And that I will not let happen. You're tougher than this, so just…straighten the fuck up, Arielle."

That stung. That really stung.

"I'm so sorry we're worried about you. I'm so sorry we want what's best for you. I'm so sorry there's a man next door that really cares about you. You're right. You've got it rough." Then she spun, yanked the door open and left, not closing it behind her.

She'd never seen her aunt so angry. Shit, that really made her feel like crap. Arielle got up, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and wished she could lock herself in her room. But she couldn't. Because the only functioning bathroom in the house was off of her bedroom. She really wanted to throw things. But instead, she got her pyjamas on, crawled into bed, and didn't sleep a wink.

Chapter Fifteen

"So, that was it for radiation," Doctor Foster pleasantly reminded her as he entered his office where she was already waiting, dressed and ready to head to Thelma's for the week.

"Yeah," she nodded, hands fidgeting in her lap. "Too bad. I think I was finally getting used to it."

He just grinned, taking his seat behind the desk. "Now, your chemotherapy treatments are done in another wing of the hospital. Doctor Greg is taking over your file for that portion of your care, but he and I will be talking regularly." She nodded while he opened a file. "The chemotherapy will have side effects, and I know you are likely familiar with what they are."

"Yes," she mumbled. "Google told me all about it."

"It's imperative that you keep food down, Arielle. Your body will need the strength to fight. So I'm going to ask you now, do you want a prescription for medical marijuana?" Her eyes popped wide, she knew it. "Not everyone wants it, but I have to say it has done wonders for my past patients. You can bake it into things, add it to recipes, and it will keep the nausea away."

"I'm going to try toughing it out first," she said, dropping her eyes to her hands in her lap. "I don't…I don't know if I want that in my house. There's a nine-year-old boy living with me, after all."

"Oh, your son?"

Arielle frowned. She was sure she'd told Doctor Foster about Calvin. "No, my nephew."

"Oh, that's right. I'm sorry. Charlie?"

Arielle almost laughed at that, but then felt a bit of hurt. "No. Calvin."

"Right, Calvin. No, I understand. But if you change your mind, I do recommend it."

"Thank you," she replied awkwardly.

"I encourage you to get lots of rest this next week. Be strong for the next step, and I think you're going to do fine."

Arielle smiled, getting to her feet. "Thank you again, Doctor Foster."

He stood and circled the desk, making for the door. She followed. Before he got there he turned, smiled at her, then offered her a hug. Half-confused, half-embarrassed, Arielle let him hug her, keeping her shoulders scrunched forward to put room between them.

"You're going to be fine, Arielle," he said warmly, then held her at arms' length. "You're such a beautiful woman." Arielle felt her blood get a bit cold. This felt really wrong. "You're going to come through this fine," he assured her, then moved to kiss her.

She was stunned. Stuck in one place. Knowing this was inappropriate. And yet she should like this. He was cute, and a doctor besides? Good lord, it was like hitting the jackpot. But all Arielle could think about was the fact that his hands were far too polite as they held her upper arms, and his lips were too baby-soft. He smelled like soap and tasted like toothpaste. Far too…clean.

She backed away, covering her mouth and looking at the ground in a stupefied pause.

"Shit," he whispered. At least he seemed mortified over what he had done. "Arielle, please forgive me. That was…that was uncalled for. And unprofessional. I am so sorry.It’s just you are so lovely—"

"I have to go," she mumbled, reaching for the door.

"Arielle, I'm so sorry."

She waved a hand and walked past Doctor Foster's waiting room, head down, not watching where she was going. She made it all the way to the sliding doors without incident, but as she got there they opened and she was careening into someone who caught her and kept her upright by the arm.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, knowing she was turning pink.

"Arielle?"

She brought her head up, stomach sinking. "Mandy."

Her new shopping pal tilted her head but didn't let her arm go. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine. Last radiation treatment. We're…heading to my Aunt's farm for a week."

Mandy nodded. "Sounds ... nice."

"Yeah," she said after an incredibly weird pause.

Mandy's eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?"

Shit, you want that alphabetical or chronologically?
Arielle thought, but what she said was, "What do you mean?"

"You're freaking out. What happened?"

She inhaled slowly. "My doctor just made a pass at me," she blurted. "I…walked away."

Mandy's face darkened. "He fucking what?"

"It was fine, he kissed me but knew right away it was a mistake…he didn't force me or hurt me or anything. It's…fine."

The other woman crossed her arms. "You gonna tell Quentin about this?"

Arielle shook her head. "Trust me, Mandy, Quentin doesn't care. Now, I have to get going. I'm sorry, really, but if I'm late they'll worry about me…" she side-stepped the woman and made for her car, wishing she could find a way to muzzle herself. When did she start spilling her guts out? That wasn't like her at all.

She had to go back to just keeping her private-life private.

"Get the hell up or I swear to Christ I'm breaking that thing off."

Quentin cracked one eye open, his head pounding like a drum line and Mandy staring down at him, arms crossed, looking like one incredibly pissed off bitch. He groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Mandy? What time is it?"

"It's about the time I kick your ass. You're talking to me now. And get rid of her, too."

Quentin's head went to the right, a blonde biker slut just waking up and even more scared of Mandy than he was. "What the hell?" he sputtered. "Get out."

"You passed out, I just slept here," she whimpered.

"Get out," he repeated in unison with Mandy.

"I'm naked."

"Sweetheart, everyone's already seen it. Now get out," Mandy repeated, voice stone-cold serious.

The piece climbed out of bed, scooping her clothes off the floor. It gave the perfect view of her round, firm ass and he groaned again. Right, now he remembered that big-man bastard pouring tequila shots down his throat in rapid succession and not stopping him bringing this bitch back to his dorm room saying something along the lines of how ‘pussy solveseverything’. Shit. Quentin was pretty sure he was going to hurl.

The blonde gone, Mandy slammed the door. It made him wince, rubbing his head again. "Mandy, take it easy. I'm fucking hung over."

"You're a dickhead is what you are." He happened to agree, but wasn't sure what she had as proof this time. Mandy pointed at the door. "Why is there some skank in your bed when that little sweetheart is living right next door to you and ready to feel better about herself?"

"What?" Shit, she was really going to have to slow down so he could jump on track here.

"I went to the hospital to see a friend who just had a baby. Ran into Arielle. She was all done up, wearing make-up, hair looking all cute as hell. Great outfit. Looking like a million bucks—I fucking hate that bitch for being so fucking pretty. And you're here? With that?"

Quentin frowned. "She looked good, huh?"

"Yeah, she looked fucking perfect. Good enough that her doctor put the moves on her."

That made him sit up with a growl. "The fuck he did!"

Mandy smirked. "So you do give a shit after all."

He was busted so he ignored that. "Mandy, she's too…nice. And I'm not."

"I asked if she was gonna tell you about that sleazy shit doc and she assured me that you wouldn't care. Why'd she say that, dickhead?"

"I pissed her off." He scrubbed his face with both hands. "I pissed her off to push her away and it…it likely hurt her."

"What happened?"

"Mandy—"

"Quentin," she threw his tone back at him.

He sighed, eyes closed. "Coulda slept with her. I told her it was a bad idea. Fuck, I really wanted to though."

Mandy's presence got quieter and Quentin dared to open his eyes. Her face still said she was angry, but her eyes were softer. "Oh Quent, you didn't."

"I had her there, willing. Fucking perfect. And I sent her away."

Mandy's inhale was regretful. "Honey, girls don't like to feel that they're not pretty enough."

"That's not what it was about."

"But that's our vulnerability. So when the guy puts on the brakes, we assume the imperfections we see every day are the reason for it. And you know what she sees when she looks in the mirror."

"She was so angry," he conceded, voice hollow, staring at the wall.

Mandy sat on the bed next to him and he double-checked to make sure his business centre was all covered up. It was, thank God. Otherwise it was in immediate danger.

"I like her, hun. And you know I don't like anyone. And I happen to think you're a better man when you've got someone you care about." Mandy shook her head. "Shit."

"It's better for her, Mandy."

"Except she likes you. Otherwise she wouldn't be so upset."

"She'll find someone better."

Mandy stood, hitching the strap of her purse up. "Why are men such idiots?" she mumbled and made for the door, leaving him wondering the same thing.

"Pink? I don't even have pink paint."

Quentin sighed. Everyone in his world was going to start thinking he was turning into a woman. But some things were worth more than pride. "I understand, man. Just get some. It's a surprise. For the kid. He wants a pink bike."

"This is… weird coming from you. Who's this kid?" Chip asked, eyebrow raised. Quentin knew what his next question was going to be.

"Hey—don't even start that. His aunt has breast cancer, okay? He wants it pink for her."

Chipsighed, scratching his balding scalp. "Like…what kind of pink? Hot pink? Barbie pink? Mary Kay pink?"

"Think classic car, candy pink," Quentin said. "Just…make it nice, you know?"

Chip sighed, then offered his hand. "You got it. I'll call when I get the paint in."

"Thanks man," Quentin returned, shaking the offered mitt.

"I got one more coat of black on your bike, and the chrome will be back by the end of the week."

"Perfect."

"And the pink bike. I'll only charge for the paint. My mom had breast cancer. Tell the kid…he's a pretty tough little fucker. Willing to ride a pink bike around."

Quentin grinned. "Okay. Thanks, man." Before he could swing a leg over his Dyna his cell rang. He pulled it out, flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"We found the dealer that sold to Trixie," Dillon told him without greeting.