Page 14 of Hotwife

My heart fluttered like fireflies in my chest. He was a surgeon, in Italian loafers, leaning up against his Porsche, yet there wasn’t a hint of pretension about this man. He was so warm and kind. It was as if my junkyard of a home, and life, if I were being honest, didn’t phase him. He saw past the gravel and the plastic tins of sticky iced tea into something else entirely. He saw me, somehow.

“I’d like that a lot.”

six

One day you’re tossing store-bought baked goods into a dish to pass them off as your own with your friends.

The next, you’re falling into a shark tank, only to be rescued by a mysterious man. A mysterious man who bit you, confounds your mind, and insists you jump on his Harley so he can torment you.

Life’s funny like that.

And where, you may ask, does that man take you?

Would you have guessed a shop with neon pink walls with yellow daisies and white fluffy rabbits stenciled delicately over the archways? Yeah, me either.

“I’ll take a banana split, please.” Desmond looked down at me as I stood, bewildered in front of the case. “And whatever she wants.”

“Can I have a scoop of strawberry on a waffle cone, please? Thank you,” I replied, glancing at the purple-haired teenager as they nodded and took Desmond’s credit card.

“Why are you looking at me like you’ve never seen ice cream before? Do they not have that in the south?” He snickered, taking his bowl from the counter and passing me my cone.

“How do you know where I’m from?” My fingers brushed his as I noted how his palm dwarfed the cone, making it look like a child’s portion. Why are hands so attractive?

“That accent don’t hide much, darlin’,” he said with a forced southern drawl that should have repulsed me. Of course, it did the opposite for some infuriating reason. Sliding into opposite sides of a booth by the window, my eyes followed his to watching the drops of rain slither down the glass.

“I forget how much that makes me stand out here,” I said softly, taking a lick of strawberry. “Where are you from?”

“All over,” he replied absently. “And your southern charm isn’t the only thing that makes you stand out, Dor-” he paused, sucking on his spoon. The look of it sending a jolt to my core. Stop it, I need to get properly laid STAT. “You just don’t look like a Dorthea. Family name?”

“Dorothy and Reverend Theodore, my parents. My full name is Dorthea Ruth Queen. Well, add Winslow, my husband’s last name, to the end. Queen-Winslow,” I included awkwardly, suddenly not in the mood for ice cream anymore.

Desmond’s stare lingered, but he didn’t press the issues, which I was thankful for. “So why are you trying to kill yourself?”

My eyes jerked away from the rain and into his forest of green. He’d finished his ice cream and was leaning back in the booth, arms crossed, dominating the space with his size. “I told you I’m not. You think I’d jump into a shark tank if that’s what I wanted?”

“What do you want?”

His question shot a lightning bolt to my chest. What did I want?

“I don’t know. To feel alive, I guess,” I sat my dripping cone in his empty bowl and stared at it. Where was all this emotion coming from?

Desmond leaned back, rubbing his stubbled face in contemplation. “You said earlier you ‘just wanted to feel something’, but pain isn’t something that’ll make you feel alive. Maybe for a moment, but that’s just chemicals.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about that,” I replied, trying to draw out any straight answer from this man.

He sat his spoon in its bowl. “Pain? I’ve gotten a paper cut a time or two so, yeah, sure.”

I rolled my eyes, struggling to hide my smile. “You said earlier you could help me?”

“I can and I will.” His definitive tone almost making me scoff.

“Okay, cowboy, try me,” I said, crossing my arms, the hint of a smile still relentlessly tugging at my lips.

“Cowboy?” Desmond put a hand over his heart and chuckled. “I’ll take it.”

Heat rose to my cheeks and dropped to my belly at the sight of his smile. He always looked devious, like he was holding a secret behind his lips that no one could guess.

And now I was obviously staring at his lips.

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