Courtney Cole - Until We Fly

Although she can’t possibly. No one can.

“No problem,” she says gently. “Now, on to more urgent matters. What should I try to make for dinner?”

I chuckle at the look of utter fear on her face. “Have you never had to cook for yourself?”

She shakes her head. “At my parent’s house, we have a housekeeper. When I was away at college, I ate in the dorms, and then when I moved to an apartment in grad school, I had takeout.”

“I’m doomed, then, is what you’re telling me?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. She laughs.

“I’m going to try something easy. Meat loaf. After it’s in the oven, I’m going to take a quick dip in the lake to cool off. Do you need anything beforehand?”

I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good. Unless you could get me a book?”

She grabs one from the shelves on the far wall, and hands it to me before she disappears into the kitchen. I concentrate on reading, rather than focusing on the pain throbbing in my leg, or the fucking wooden box mocking me from across the room.

Nora emerges thirty minutes later, looking a bit frazzled, but otherwise, no worse for the wear.

“Okay,” she announces triumphantly. “We have a loaf made from meat baking. I don’t know if it’ll be edible, but it’s baking. I’m headed out to the lake. Hopefully the water will wash out the hamburger under my fingernails. Otherwise, it might be there permanently.”

I smile. “Enjoy yourself.”

She glances at me before she heads to her bedroom to change. “After your thigh heals, maybe we could get you out there? It might be a good way for you to exercise since you don’t have to bear weight.”

Alarm floods me, quick and white-hot and I immediately shake my head.

“I don’t swim.”

Nora stares at me in surprise. “You can’t, or don’t?”

“I don’t.”

She’s clearly puzzled, but she doesn’t pry. “Ok. It was just an idea.”

“I know,” I tell her, my pulse still bounding wildly in my throat. “Thank you.”

She nods and leaves and I stare out the window again, calming down.

Stop being a pussy.

But God, it’s hard. The one thing I can’t get past. I was able to get past the bullets and explosions of Afghanistan, for God’s sake.

But not this.

At the mere thought of it, my heart pounds in my chest, threatening to break free from my ribcage.

With a deep breath, I watch the water, rippling peacefully against the shore, in a fluid age-old motion, a harmless, serene motion.

It’s harmless, you fucking pussy.

But I know that it isn’t always.

As I stare at the familiar landscape, I’m filled with trepidation.

I don’t like being home. Being here brings back memories, and uncomfortable feelings…. things I would just as soon keep buried.

Home. Most people take comfort in being back home. Home is a place they always feel safe, secure and loved.

Too bad I’m not most people.

I felt safer in the battlefields of Afghanistan than I did here.

Quit being such a fucking girl.

With a sigh, I turn my attention back to the book, scrolling through each page, until a movement outside distracts me an hour or so later.

Nora is wading out of the lake and onto the beach. She looks like a sea nymph or a siren as she swings her long wet hair out of her face, and the sun envelops her body, glistening on every wet plane.

Her thighs are long, her tits are full and perky and she’s practically naked now, fully wet as the water streams over her body.

My dick tightens in reaction and I suck in my breath.

Through the window, Nora’s eyes meet mine and I’m not sure what I see hidden in hers. Determination, I think.

But what exactly is she determined to do?

As I watch her bend to get her towel, I’m not sure I want to find out, although my penis seems to disagree. He’s interested in every little thing Nora Greene does.

He doesn’t know what he’s getting us into.

To be honest, I don’t know either.

Nora

As I change out of my bathing suit and into a sundress, I ponder the look on Brand’s face.

Hesitant.

Reluctant.

But why? I saw him watch me. I know that at least part of him wants me.

Butterflies flutter in my belly at that thought. Brand Killien wants me.

But he doesn’t want to want me.

That’s just as obvious and it quiets the butterflies back down. I stare glumly in the mirror as I comb my wet hair. There must be a reason, and it more than likely has to do with a woman. Brand is loyal as the day is long, I can tell. So there must be a girlfriend.

With a sigh, I put down my comb and head out to the kitchen.

Good Lord, the heat. The hot oven has turned the kitchen into a freaking inferno. Lesson one. Don’t use the oven on a hot day.

It’s even hotter as I open the oven and pull out the meat. Which, incidentally, is charred.

What the hell?

I poke at it and find that the top and bottom are covered in a blackened crust. Only the middle is edible and I have no idea why. I did everything the recipe said to do. Crap. Excerpt set the oven timer. I baked it thirty minutes longer than I was supposed to.

I’m blowing the hair out of my face when Brand calls in to me.

“How’s it coming?”

I don’t want to admit defeat. But I’m sure the man is hungry.

I slink out with my tail between my legs.

“I’ve got many talents,” I announce. “Unfortunately, it seems that cooking isn’t one of them. Yet.”

Brand bursts out laughing, setting his book on his lap. I flush as I remember his lap shoved against me earlier. And how happy his lap had been to see mine.

“Take-out?” he suggests.

I nod. “Takeout. Any ideas?”

“Actually, yes,” he tells me. “I was actually here last year for dinner. Some friends of mine owned the little Italian place and I came here one evening. They sold it, but I believe it still serves the same menu. Italian sounds good to me.”

“It does to me too,” I tell him as I grab my purse. “Especially since I won’t have to cook it.”

Brand tosses me his wallet. “It’s on me.”

I don’t argue, because I know there would be no point. I can already tell that he’s stubborn.

I head for The Hill. I’ve actually eaten there many times throughout the summers.

Like always, it’s packed tonight with hungry tourists. I patiently wait my turn to order at the take-out counter, and when it’s finally my turn, an older Italian woman smiles at me.

“Hello there, welcome to the Hill. What can I get for you?”

I give her our order, and she rings it up. “That will be eighteen dollars and twenty-four cents.”

I open Brand’s wallet and pull out the money, but the woman’s eyes are frozen on his driver’s license picture.

“Do you know Brand?” she asks me, her face lighting up. Surprised, I nod.

“Yes. You do too?”

She nods happily. “That’s a good man, sweetie. After my husband Tony died, Brand came to the funeral, but then he came back with his friend Gabe to haul my daughter’s stuff to college. That’s a good family, bella.”

I’m confused. “But he and Gabe aren’t related, right?”

The woman laughs. “They might as well be. Well, he and Gabe. He and Jacey on the other hand… aye yi yi.”

That snags my attention, but she’s holding out her hand now. “I’m Maria, bella. And you?”

I shake her hand. “Nora.” I purposely leave off the Greene. “It’s a pleasure. What were you saying about Brand and Jacey?”

Maria eyes me knowingly. “He and that girl. Jacey means well, but she never could get her head on straight. Always made bad choices. One of her ex-boyfriends killed my Tony, you know. Ran him right off the road. Brand tried to get her straightened out, and we all know why. He was head over heels for that girl. But she married someone else. Some famous actor. I never could understand why, probably another bad choice. Because Brand’s the cream of the crop, honey. She’s crazy for not wanting him. Let me tell you, if Brand’s interested in you, you’d better keep him.”

Maria stares at me pointedly and I realize that I’m holding Brand’s wallet, paying for a dinner for two with it. Of course she thinks there might be something to that. But I can’t focus on that, mainly because I know Brand doesn’t want me. Or he doesn’t want to want me, anyway.

“Which actor did Jacey marry, Maria?” I ask curiously.

She wrinkles her nose in disdain. “Dominic Kinkaide.”

I recognize the name immediately, and picture him in my head. Hollywood’s most famous bad-boy.

I’ve seen his face a thousand times in the movies. Tall, dark and dangerous. But at the same time, I do remember seeing photos of he and his new bride plastered on the tabloids.

Jacey Vincent-Kinkaide. Blonde, brown-eyed. Gorgeous.

Brand was in love with someone who is the polar opposite of me.

And he might very well still be, for all I know. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to want me. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, but he’s still in love with someone else.

I swallow hard.

“It’s been nice meeting you, Maria,” I tell her as she hands me the dinner bags. “I’m sure I’ll be in a lot this summer.”

She smiles. “Tell Brand hello for me, dear. I hope to see him, too.”

I shake my head as I head out to the car. Maria is very genuine. She truly wants to see Brand. Apparently, Brand has the same effect on everyone. They want to be near him, to soak him up. At least it isn’t just me.