Rachel Gibson - Truly Madly Yours

“You didn’t see it as what?”

The smell of crisp morning air clung to him. She took a deep breath, pulling the scent of him deep into her lungs.

“Delaney?”

“Hmm?” Then she did lean back, her shoulders into his chest, her behind pressed into his groin. He was solid and fully aroused. He brought one hand around to her stomach and he drew her tight against him. Delaney followed his gaze to his long fingers splayed wide across her abdomen. His thumb brushed the underside of her right breast.

“When is your first appointment this morning?” he asked close to her ear. He pushed the edge of her turtleneck and kissed the side of her throat.

Her eyes drifted closed, and she tilted her head to one side to give him better access. He cared about her. He had to. “In about twenty minutes.”

“I could give us what we both need in fifteen.” His fingers brushed her sensitive flesh through the cotton of her shirt.

She was falling in love with him. She could feel it happen like a fierce undertow, pulling at her, sweeping her feet from beneath her, and there was nothing she could do about it except maybe save herself a little pain. She looked into his stunning face and said, “I don’t want to be just another of your women, Nick. I want more.”

He raised his gaze to hers. “What do you want?”

“While I’m here, I want to be the only woman you’re with. Just me.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I want you to make love only to me. I want you to get rid of your other women.”

His hand stilled and he studied her for several long moments. “You want me to ‘get rid’ of all the women I’m supposed to be screwing to make some sort of commitment to you for what… six months?”

“Yes.”

“What do I get in return?”

She’d been afraid he’d ask that question. There was only one answer she could give him, and she was aware he might not think it enough. “Me.”

“For six months.”

“Yes.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I want to make love with you, but I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

“You say the word ‘love’ a lot.” He straightened and dropped his hand from her abdomen. “Do you love me?”

She was scared as hell she did and afraid of what it meant. “No.”

“Good, because I don’t love you.” He took a step back and zipped his jacket. “You know what they say about me, wild thing. I can’t be faithful to one woman, and you haven’t said anything that would make me want to try.” He took a few more steps backward. “If you want hot, sweaty sex, you know where to find me. If you want someone to beg for crumbs at your table for a few months, find someone else.”

She didn’t want him to beg for anything and didn’t really know what he meant, only that she wasn’t enough for him. After he left Delaney wanted nothing more than to curl up in a tight ball and cry. Maybe she should have taken those fifteen minutes he offered, but she was more selfish than that. She didn’t share. Not men, and especially not Nick. She wanted him all to herself. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same. Because of the risk he’d taken to be with her, she’d been so sure he cared. She guessed not.

Now she didn’t have to think about what loving Nick meant. She didn’t have to consider the repercussions or what to do about them. All she had to do was get through the next six months.

The holiday parade kicked off the Truly Winter Festival and started a scandal that would last for decades when the man chosen to play Santa, Marty Wheeler, got so wasted he took a header out of the sleigh and knocked himself unconscious. Marty was short, as stocky as a pug dog, and as hairy as a primate. He overhauled engines at the Chevron on Sixth and was an instructor at the kung fu dojo-a real man’s man. The fact that Marty got tanked before and during the parade shocked no one. His choice of underwear, however, left the crowd speechless. When the paramedics opened his Santa suit and revealed his bright pink merry widow, everyone was stunned. Everyone but Wannetta Van Damme, who’d always figured the forty-three-year-old bachelor was “a mite queer.”

Delaney was almost sorry she’d missed seeing Marty in his underwear, but she’d been busy at the Grange hall decorating for the fashion show. She helped decorate the stage with silver stars and tinsel and the runway with pine boughs and Christmas lights. Backstage, she set up lighted mirrors and chairs. She brought gel and mousse, big cans of hair spray and little sprigs of holly. She figured the people of Truly weren’t ready for anything as extreme as style show hair. No rose bushes or bird’s nests for these ladies. She brought pictures of braids and twists and ponytails she could arrange in ten to fifteen minutes per head.

The show was set to start at seven, and by six-thirty, Delaney was deep into her work. She braided hair into ropes and knots, turned them inside out and upside down. She twisted and tucked and rolled and listened to the latest dish, secretly relieved Marty had taken her place on the menu.

“One of the nurses at the hospital told Patsy Thomason who told me that Marty had on one of those lace thongs, too,” the mayor’s wife, Lillie Tanasee, informed Delaney as she braided a coronet in the woman’s auburn hair. Lillie had decked herself and her young daughter out in matching red and green taffeta. “Patsy said the merry widow and panties were from Victoria’s Secret. Can you imagine anything so tawdry?”

Delaney had worked with many gay hairdressers over the years, but she’d never met a cross dresser-not that she knew, anyway. “At least he isn’t cheap. I don’t mind tawdry as much as I mind cheap.”

“My husband bought me one of those nylon crotchless numbers,” confessed a woman waiting her turn in the chair. She covered the ears of the little girl dressed as an elf standing next to her. “It was three sizes too small and so cheap I felt like a low-rent prostitute.”

Delaney shook her head as she wove a few holly berries into Lillie’s hair. “Nothing like cheap lingerie to make a woman feel like a hooker.” She grabbed a tall can and sprayed down Lillie’s head. The mayor’s daughter Misty jumped into the chair next, and Delaney styled her hair to replicate her mother’s. Several women who’d done their own hair stood away from the others; Benita Allegrezza was one of them. Out of the corner of her eye, Delaney watched Nick’s mother speak with a group of her friends. She figured Benita was in her mid-fifties, but looked a good ten years older. She wondered if it was genes or bitterness that had etched the lines in her forehead and around her mouth. She glanced around for her mother and wasn’t surprised when she spied her in the middle of the action, her hair already perfect. Helen was nowhere to be seen, but Delaney wasn’t surprised by her absence.

Those who chose to sit in Delaney’s chair ranged in age and style of dress. Some wore elegant velvets, others elaborate costumes. Delaney’s favorite was a young mother dressed as Mrs. Winter and her toddler in a snowflake costume. She got her biggest surprise when Lisa arrived impersonating a sugarplum and wanting her hair braided in a French rope. Delaney had talked to her friend several times since she’d returned from her honeymoon a few weeks past. They’d had lunch a couple of times, but Lisa hadn’t mentioned she planned to participate. “When did you decide to be in the show?”

“Last weekend. I thought it might be nice for me and Sophie to do something together.”

Delaney looked around. “Where is Sophie?” For a brief moment she wondered if Lisa knew about the notes Sophie had been leaving, but she supposed Lisa would have mentioned it by now.

“Changing. She was helping Louie and Nick work on their ice sculpture. When I picked her up from Larkspur Park, she wasn’t wearing a hat and her coat was unzipped. It’ll be a miracle if she isn’t sick tomorrow.”

“What is she changing into?”

“A nightgown we made. We were inspired by ‘The Night Before Christmas.’ ”

“How do you get along with Sophie now that you live with her?” Delaney asked as she gathered a handful of Lisa’s hair and divided it into three sections at the crown of her head.

“It’s a pretty big adjustment for both of us. I like her to eat at the kitchen table, and she’s been allowed to graze like a free-range chicken all of her life. Just little stuff like that. If she weren’t thirteen it might be easier.” Lisa looked in the mirror and adjusted the felt leaves around her neck. “Louie and I want a baby, but we think we should wait until Sophie gets used to having me around before we bring another child into the family.”

A baby. She used all her fingers as she braided and twisted Lisa’s hair down the back. Lisa and Louie were planning a family. Delaney didn’t even have a boyfriend, and when she thought of a man in her life, there was only one who entered her head-Nick. She thought about him a lot lately. Even while she slept. She’d had another bad dream the other night, only this time the days progressed and her car hadn’t disappeared. She’d been free to leave Truly, but the thought of never seeing Nick again tore at her heart. She didn’t know which was worse, living in the same town and ignoring him, or not living in the same town and not forcing herself to ignore him. She was confused and pathetic and thought maybe she should just give into the inevitable and buy a cat. “I suppose you heard about Marty Wheeler,” she said in an effort to divert her thoughts.

“Of course. I wonder what makes a man want to slip on a merry widow under his Santa suit. You know, those things are really uncomfortable.”

“Did you hear about the lace thong?” Delaney grabbed an elastic band and secured the end of the French rope. Then she tucked it under with a bobby pin.

Lisa stood and straightened her costume. “Go figure. Can you imagine the wedgie?”