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Vi reaches over and places her hand over mine, and I look into her eyes. “I wish I had been up-front with Orion. It might have saved us a lot of anguish.” She gives me an encouraging smile. “See how tonight goes. And on that note, we have shopping to get to.” She turns to the counter and calls out, “We have to get moving, Hanna.”
EIGHT
The Whole Story
FRANCESCA
After an entire afternoon of shopping with Vi, I’m beat. I barely made it home in time to shower and change for my date with Hammer tonight. Vi is a shopping enthusiast, and Rose was right, she has an eye for what suits others.
I purchased three pairs of jeans, three T-shirts, two cool blouses that totally have a rocker-chick vibe, a deep brown leather jacket, and some awesome ankle boots with silver buckles. Vi didn’t stop there. She took me back to her place, where, from her assortment of handmade jewelry, she picked out silver drop earrings with aqua rhinestones, a wide bangle bracelet, and a leather belt.
I was overwhelmed at first when she put me in the dressing room and handed me clothes to try on, but as soon as I came out, the saleswomen in the shop along with a few other shoppers told me I looked amazing. In the mirror, I saw a girl I hadn’t seen for a long time, and she was smiling from ear to ear. I wasn’t Ms. Francesca Deleigh of Deleigh Holdings anymore. I was just Frankie.
After a quick shower, I blow-dry and style my hair into a side ponytail. It’s more elaborate than a simple ponytail, but I take Vi’s great advice and make sure I stay true to myself. I keep my makeup to a minimum, highlighting my eyes in smoky grays and mascara, a hint of blush and shiny gloss for my lips. I settle on the light-colored pair of soft denim jeans, with a lavender, sleeveless, printed-silk tank. It hangs loose, and I tuck it in the front of my pants, showing off my new belt. With my boots, the ensemble is complete. Just in time too, as the doorbell rings.
“Hi.” Hammer looks me up and down from head to toe, finally settling on my face. The silence is unsettling. I break it with “Am I dressed okay?”
He puts his hand on my belly, pushes me back gently, and closes the door behind him with his foot, then hooks his arm around my waist and hauls me up against his chest. He swings me around so that my back is braced against the door and his body is pressed up tight to mine.
His mouth swoops down and covers mine in a ravaging kiss that both consumes and fills me at the same time. A kiss that leaves me breathless, yet I never want it to end because it feels so right. I wrap my arms around his neck, and as his lips trace a path to my cheek and down my neck, my nipples tingle and I grow wet between my legs. All that from a kiss.
I peer up at him through hazy eyes, desire burning bright. Still panting, I manage to say, “I’ll take that as a yes.” Hammer buries his face in my neck and chuckles. His stubble tickles, and like a naughty girl, I imagine it in other places.
He pulls back so that we’re nose to nose. “Yeah, babe. I like it. If I liked it any more, we wouldn’t make it out the door.” I wanted to shout with glee and tell him I’m up for staying home and having him whisk me off to the bedroom. “But I promised you slow, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
Well, shoot! It’s both sweet and frustrating at the same time. Hammer listening and not pushing me to sleep with him is refreshing. Especially after the long line of wolves I’ve had to fight off. However, that kiss was so amazing, I want more.
“You got a jacket? I’m putting you on the back of my bike,” he says. He waits for my quick yes, then lets me go. “Go get it. I’m taking you for a ride.” I’m gone for two seconds before I come back with my leather jacket. Then he does the strangest thing. He drops his head back, stares up at the ceiling, and closes his eyes, slowly counting to ten. When he focuses his attention on me again, he lets out a breath. “You’re killing me, Frankie.”
I don’t have time to react or ask how come, because he already has my hand and is leading me outside. He waits for me to lock my door, then helps me onto his bike.
“What do I do?” I ask as he straps on my helmet.
“Hold on tight.” He faces forward, then reaches back and takes my hands, guiding them around his middle and locking them in place. My thighs are plastered to either side of his. My chest is pressed tight to his back as he kicks the motorcycle to life with a loud roar. “You’re safe with me. We’ll go slow.”
He takes us into town through the country roads. The scenery is beautiful, but more beautiful is the time and attention he’s taking to show me why he loves this so much. “Ready for a little more power?”
I nod and shout, “Yes,” over the rumble of the engine. He takes it up a notch until soon, we’re cruising down the main road into town. I’m hooked. I love the feel of the wind in my face and the freedom of riding with Hammer.
After we reach the diner and he parks the bike out front, Hammer and I take a seat near the window. Millie’s is rustic and cute. It’s one of those places where the owner knows everyone and stops at every table to catch up. Millie is a middle-aged woman, but she looks fabulous for her age. What I like the most is that she says what she thinks, but with a smile. The gentleman at the next table is complaining about an argument he had with his wife. He’s going on and on about how he had to get out of the house.
“I worked all day and when I got home, I had to hear her going on about the kids and chores and how tired she is. I bust my ass to keep a roof over our heads. Last thing I wanna do is come home and listen to her tell me I’m not doing enough,” he whines.
There’s no way not to hear the man. He’s upset. I doubt he even knows how loud he’s being. Although I can understand his perspective, he’s not being fair to his wife.
What I’m thinking, Millie puts into words, only in a more direct way, but with a great deal of respect. “Oh, Jimmy, when you come home after work, does your wife have dinner ready for you?” she asks.
“Well, yeah,” he responds.
“Is your home well kept? Are your kids clean and fed? Who helps them with their homework? Who reminds you to call your mother on her birthday and sends her a gift every year with your name on it? Your wife, that’s who. Even though your mother doesn’t treat Sally very nicely.” Before he can respond, she carries on. “And, Jimmy, you do your part too. Because you work hard, your wife feels the love you have for her and your kids. You’re a good man. When you have a hard day, you have buddies at work to shoot off to and get it off your chest. And I’m sure Sally has heard you go on a rampage when the day called for it. Who does Sally have to vent to? She can’t tell the kids, because they’re children and they need to see a strong mother. She can tell her friends, but that would mean she’s talking about her personal life, and that would include you. I don’t think you’d like that very much now, would you? So your wife did the only thing she could: she told you. The man she loves and trusts.”
“She was in a snit, Millie,” he says in his defense.
“Fine. All she wants is for you to listen. I know Sally, and she’s never been one to go off without cause. Something must have really pushed her buttons for her to react the way she did.”
Jimmy sits quietly after Millie walks away. After a few minutes, he calls Millie over. “Can you wrap up two pieces of peach cobbler? It’s Sally’s favorite.”
Millie gives him a chin lift and a wink. “I thought you’d come to that conclusion.” She hands him a bag she had behind her back.
