Page 18 of Romancing the Rude Guy

Tomorrow. At his house.

Heat blazes in my face as I flash back to my earlier musings about if he could have sex or not. Perhaps I’d be finding out the answer to that question soon.

CHAPTER NINE

MARCUS

I’m tasting the sweetness of Alice’s strawberry pie and the even sweeter taste of her kiss long after I leave. I hated having to dash out on her like that, but it was either seeing her for a short time today or cancelling altogether.

When she made the lunch date for today, I had forgotten about the service appointment for my wheelchair. General maintenance is something I handle on my own. It’s recommended that it get a full inspection and service at least once a year. Being without my main mode of mobility for any length of time is a nightmare and one that I don’t mess around with.

A few years back, I had an issue with my chair and had to use a rental one until mine was back in top form. That experience made me appreciate my chair even more. My ass and hips were both very unhappy with the subpar seat cushion on the rental one I used while mine was being serviced and repaired.

Since I can’t feel most of my lower body pressure sores are a real danger and a threat to my health. I’ll be damned if I survived that accident only to have a pressure sore end me.

At my appointment, I wait in the comfortable waiting area while a technician performs a complete safety and performance check on my chair. Having time to kill, I come up with a menu for tomorrow night’s dinner and order the groceries to be delivered later today.

It’s an extra cost, but the service I use instructs the delivery person to bring my groceries right into my kitchen for me and they’ll even help me in putting them away if necessary.

Being disabled isn’t cheap. From my hospital stay, rehab, equipment, buying a house and having it customized for my needs, getting my car modified, etc.. the expense, even with insurance paying a hefty amount, ate a big chunk into my sizeable savings.

I was fortunate to have a well-paying job before the accident and, even better, one I was able to continue working at after my recovery. Not everyone is that fortunate.

Despite everything that happened, I’m grateful for my life and after my wheelchair service, I feel that gratitude once again pulling into my garage.

I’ve been doing it so long now that pulling the pieces of my chair from the backseat and resembling it takes no time at all and soon I’m pushing up the slight ramp leading from the garage into the mudroom of my house.

It’s a sprawling one level home with four bedrooms and three bathrooms. All the doorways are wide enough for my chair to pass through comfortably without scraping my hands or pinching my fingers, and the hallways are spacious enough that someone could walk right by me without having to plaster themselves against the opposite wall.

My bedroom is perfectly outfitted for me along with an ensuite bathroom that features both a roll-in shower with a shower wheelchair and a walk-in bathtub with a seat I can comfortably get myself situated on before closing the door and letting the tub fill.

I don’t make much use of the tub, but it’s nice to have. I also have various handrails strategically placed to make transferring to and from the toilet easier.

The vanity is the perfect height for me in my chair and there is plenty of storage space underneath the sink for my supplies, which are sadly numerous.

I’m blessed not to currently need a catheter, but I have some on hand from the times when I did use them and it’s good to have them in case of emergencies. Same for diapers. It’s a reality I’ve had to come to terms with and accept.

Thankfully, four years ago, I had bladder surgery. That greatly improved my life, and I haven’t experienced a urinary infection since. Pressure sores and UTIs go hand in hand with spinal cord injuries. Something what feels like another lifetime ago, I was blissfully unaware of.

The other two bathrooms are left mostly unmodified for the comfort of guests. In the four years that I’ve lived here, I’ve only had a handful of people over, mostly family. I still treasure the available space and that goes for every part of my house. Most especially the kitchen with the custom counters and lower appliances.

Bob, one of my regular delivery drivers, arrives and we chat for a bit while putting away the groceries. He notices my larger than normal delivery and ribs me about putting on some weight. Eyeing up his sizeable gut, I grin and say I’m entertaining tomorrow. I tip him generously before he goes, and he wishes me well on my date.

Since I didn’t tell him it was a date, I’m a bit surprised. It also hits me that I never messaged Alice with my address.

A goofy grin, quite unlike my normal expression, spreads across my face as I text her. That grin grows when she responds immediately.

Not that I think anything will happen, but I included condoms with my order.

That’s when I realize that’s how Bob knew I had a date planned. Whether that surprised him or not, he kept that to himself and I’m grateful. My sex life is often the subject of curious people and one I’m not happy to share the details of.

Grabbing the box of condoms, I head to my bedroom and stash the box in the nightstand after tearing a few apart to make things easier in case things do proceed into the bedroom with Alice.

It’s not something I’m planning on, but I sure wouldn’t say no.

***

When I open the door, I finally understand the expression ‘take my breath away’ because that’s what Alice does. Her long blonde hair is loose and flows down over her shoulders, just barely covering the soft mounds of her breasts.

---