Page 3 of Garnish with a Candy Cane
I head to my desk and swipe the Advil from my bottom drawer. Duchess attempts to climb off the couch too but alcohol and gravity win the battle against her malfunctioning coordination. I catch her before she wipes out completely and enjoy her being in my arms way too much. Stupidly I breathe in her peppermint shampoo and fail to resist her cuddling against me when her arms slide around my waist. Welcoming her soft touch and silky skin under my hand. “Careful Duchess. You need to let me help you.”
“Okay.”
She rubs her face against my jacket, muffling her voice. Breathing me in just as much. I rattle the bottle to get her attention away from caressing my body and back to minimizing her headache. “Let’s get you sitting again.”
I easily manhandle her over to the sofa and an inexplicable protectiveness stirs inside me. Grateful that it’s me taking care of her now rather than giving in to my earlier idea of tossing her back into the fray. Bile swills in my stomach from the thought of another man helping her. Or worse, not. Jesus.
I shake two pills into my palm and uncap the OJ. “Here you go.”
After a few sips of the liquid to wash down the medicine, she smiles and sighs. “Oh my gosh. This is so good.”
Her standards are too low. I nod encouragingly and roll my finger forward. “Then drink some more.”
Obedient and docile, she nods and empties half the container. Dehydration must be already kicking in, which confirms she definitely needs the potassium. Once she seems finished, I take the bottle back before the smooth glass slips through her fingers and set the container on the table. I’m not in the mood to have housekeeping in here cleaning up a mess when all I want is her to myself. To understand how she really ended up with me. “So tell me, what did…” I don’t know why, but I don’t want to say the stupid motherfucker’s name who dumped her. Iamdamn crazy tonight. “…your ex do that makes him an asshole?”
Her hair rustles across the cushion when she shakes her head furiously. Disgust mars her graceful features. “He wants me to leave my grandma behind. He told me if I loved him enough, I would move with him to Houston. But I told him ifhelovedmeenough, he wouldn’t ask me to abandon the only member of my family I have left.”
I’m suitably impressed. Too often girls end up losing themselves in a man. My experience anyway. Most of the women I’ve met try to lose themselves in me, when all I usually need is some fun and easy pussy for the night. At least this girl is independent enough to do what she wants.
“You know what though?’
“What?”
A penetrating gaze meets mine, heavy with worry and doubt. “I didn’t even tell Heidi this, but I’m not sad he’s leaving.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Do you want to know a secret?”
Her exaggerated whisper makes me laugh again since no one else is around to hear us. “Sure.”
“He hurt me.”
All the humor fades from her confession. Replaced by a fury for a woman I don’t even really know yet somehow still care about. “What do you meanhurt?”
She frowns and rubs over her wrist as if she sees something on her ivory skin that upsets her. “He would grab my arm really hard sometimes, squeezing until I cried. I didn’t like it.”
I don’t like it either. Not one fucking bit. I’ve got to find out who this bastard is so he can know what it feels like to be hurt until he cries.
“Do you want to know another secret?”
“Duchess, I want to know all your secrets.”
This declaration must be good because the smile I already love lights up her stunning face again. All thoughts of that motherfucker vanished already.
“Okay. When I was seven, I told Maisy I’d be her best friend even though Heidi was already my best friend because I didn’t want her to cry. Once I had a pimple on the end of my nose so I lied and told my grandma I was sick so I could stay home from school. Heidi thought she was pregnant but she was too scared to go to the store to buy the pregnancy test so I skipped class to go with her to buy it. I never wear bikinis or crop tops because I hate this scar I have on my stomach.”
I can barely comprehend the slew of words she inundates me with when she jumps up, her petite body inches from my knees, and lifts the hem of her dress. The silky fabric raises higher and higher. Past her thighs and over her tiny lavender thong, until the lacy edge brushes her ribcage.
Oh. Fuck. Me.
A pink fingertip draws down a four-inch jagged line marring the smooth skin between her plump breasts and belly button, pierced with a blue diamond I’m guessing no one ever gets to see either. Except now, for me.
Only me from now on.
“What do you think?”
“That you’re insanely beautiful.” Without any regard to her reaction or the consequences, I wrap my hands around her narrow hips and tug her closer, pressing my lips to her ravished body. When her fingers drive through my hair and she moans, I think only one absolute and final thought for this entire fucked up situation. Mine.
