Page 60 of Wine & Dine

“Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful, and I want to fucking fuck you right here in this fucking gorgeous dress and watch you drip all over me.”

Whoa. The words set off a second detonation, and this time, I choke on his name, fighting the rebel yell inside me.

“Garrett,” I hiss, dragging out his name.

“Fuck yes, again,” he barks. His lips press against my skin as he watches me fold in the mirror. My fingers clutch at his wrist where his hand has disappeared within the dress. I groan, almost in torture as a second orgasm rips me in two. I want him inside me like I’ve never wanted anything in my life. Right here. Right now.

But he kisses my shoulder and slowly withdraws his fingers. Within seconds, he’s back under the dress with a cloth wiping me.

“What’s that?” I don’t recognize my voice as I ask. My legs tremble, and I’m still on edge, wanting him to fill me.

“A handkerchief.” He removes the material and folds it with one hand, tucking it back into his suit pants pocket. I chuckle with the thought of this modern man carrying such an antiquated piece of fabric. He pats his pocket after securing it.

“You can’t walk around with that in your pocket,” I mock in horror.

“It’s the closest I can get you to my dick right now. I’ll feel it against my thigh all day, torturing myself until I can get home to you tonight.” Home. To me. He kisses my shoulder again and then tips my chin to face him. “It won’t be fair to the other ladies that you’ll be the most beautiful woman at the event.”

“You said it was a party,” I bite, my voice breaking on what the word event might mean.

“Po-tay-to, Pa-tah-to.” He quickly kisses me and steps down from the platform. “Change and I’ll take you to lunch.”

Lunch? Sure, he’s all cool as a cucumber after what he just did, and right now, the only thing I want to eat is him.

+ + +

The week passes in a blur of casual dinners and sexy time with Garrett, and I should be happy. I am happy. I can’t remember ever being so content in all my life, but a sliver of me is missing.

It’s colder in California than I expected in early December, but I quickly find my destination as I walk the streets.

On the Go Diner.

I climb the stairs as if I’m entering another era when I enter the diner car. The theme is the mid-1950s, so loud and bright and white. The space practically gleams from the chrome accents. The music croons, and the heat cranks. It isn’t exactly my taste, but I like the premise behind the place. True to their branding, soft drinks are served in shapely glasses, and fries come on paper plates. The women wear bright uniforms in pink, turquoise, and yellow. I wonder for a moment how a themed diner might work in Blue Ridge. I’d want something more sophisticated, a little older looking, more classic. Think black and white movies, my brain says. Ideas begin to pour into me. Lush booths. Dim lighting. Candles. It doesn’t exactly fit the image of the current diner, which is more your typical greasy spoon. A one-stop shop for coffee and breakfast, but it’s time for a change. Could Blue Ridge handle it?

The community has already been rather accepting of Blue Ridge Microbrewery and Pub up the street. Billy Harrington didn’t open the place to hurt me; he did it to revive the downtown strip as well as attract tourists. He had his own personal reasons for mixing things up, and I admit it’s helped our little town. The locals love Dolores’s Diner, but does Dolores? I sigh as I question myself and sip the coffee placed before me. We don’t have a Starbuck’s in Blue Ridge like every other American town, but maybe what we need is a coffee shop and a diner. I fall back in the booth and look out the window at the quiet side street.

How can I guess what Blue Ridge needs if I don’t even know what I want?

I’ve been skipping out on life for nearly eight weeks. Two months. This isn’t me. I don’t run away. I don’t avoid. Then I consider Rusty. It’s what I’ve been doing the whole ten years I’ve been with him—avoiding my emotions just to have sex with him.

And after sex with Garrett Fox, how could I ever return to a man like Rusty Miller?

You can’t, my heart says. And you don’t want to, my girlie parts cheer.

I reach forward and cup my hands around the thick ceramic mug. What about Garrett? He enjoys playing dress-up-Dolores, but how does he feel about me? We’re ignoring the elephant in the room, which includes the fact I don’t live here. Could I stay? I’ve enjoyed California, but I’m still in vacation mode and disassociated from the day-to-day living. What would I do here? Garrett’s the only person I know in the area, which is dangerous. It makes me dependent, and I don’t want to be. Then there’s the matter of not having a job. How do I explain myself? I own a business, but I walked away.

You can take the girl out of the diner, but can you really remove the diner in the girl?

I should call Denton. I should call Hollilyn and see how the diner is managing without me. I should get my shit together. My phone pings, and I notice a text from Garrett.

Home soon.

I smile weakly, but I’m no longer certain where that is anymore.