Searching for Always(102)

The phone clicked off and Kate’s image disappeared. Kennedy patted her shoulder. “I know this is hard, A. But just remember: men are limited. We need to work with them in order to catch them up to speed. Now, I want to hear all about the ice.”

Arilyn laughed. Then told her.


ONE WEEK LATER, STONE wondered what was happening.

His life was usually easy. Mapped out. He worked every spare moment, slept, played pool, worked out, and went drinking with the guys. Sure, there were dates and some sleepovers in the middle, but mostly his freedom was key, and he relished the open road, even taking the bits of loneliness in stride.

Now, things had . . . changed.

He got into the habit of bringing Pinky to Arilyn’s house after work. After the first sleepover night, Pinky stopped howling every time Robert got close. The second night, Arilyn put their food bowls and beds closer together, still keeping a safe distance but forcing Pinky to see Robert in her space. The third night, they ate side by side without communicating. Almost as if Robert knew Pinky was delicate and needed to move things on her own. Oh, they watched each other, and sometimes Robert looked over with pleading need and adoration, wanting to play with a friend, but he kept chill. Stone fell hard for the pit bull, with his smarts and gentle soul. He even learned how to hook up his scooter and helped Arilyn take care of him when Patrick couldn’t get over there in the afternoon.

Arilyn and Stone’s relationship had also changed. What began as annoyance and attraction and then melded into hot sex and passion had now morphed into more. Affection. Tenderness. Comfort. Stone didn’t know when it had transitioned or at what moment he realized that he was enjoying having dinner, going to the movies, or hanging with her and the dogs just as much as being in bed.

Well, almost as much.

He never experienced such intense liking before. Sure, he enjoyed women and took them out on dates, but when he was alone, he never really missed them unless he had a hard-on. Never thought about them during the course of the day. Maybe because Arilyn was wrapped up with him in the anger management course, he’d gotten used to seeing her on a daily basis. That had to be it. Because the alternative was impossible. He didn’t lose control of his boxed-up mess of emotional crap, because it never worked out. Being honest was the best he could give.

Though something had happened between them the night he tied her up. Rollicking passion, yes. Numerous orgasms, definitely. But a bond had been strengthened, a connection that had always simmered between them but now seemed fused together permanently. She made him ache all over, inside and out, and drove him to claim her in bed endlessly in the drive to get rid of the madness. So far, no good.

Maybe once anger management was over, things would calm.

He’d work an extra shift. Pick up a little OT, gain some distance, and remind himself about real life. It would be good for both of them.

Stone pulled up to her house and glanced at his companion. The sore spots had now fully healed. Her new pink collar glittered with fake bling, which embarrassed the hell out of him, but since it was a present from Arilyn and Pinky seemed to like it, he hadn’t ripped it off. Yet. Hell, he’d almost bought a spiked leather collar at the pet store, but it reminded him too much of a BDSM relationship. So the pink stayed.

Her bat ears stood straight up with pale pink centers, and she panted with what he now knew was excitement. Her jaw jutted out with the excitement, exposing tiny sharp teeth. Those chocolate-brown eyes stared at him with sheer adoration, making him shake his head. “Come on, you little rat fink. Let’s go see Robert.” He scratched her head affectionately and pulled her into the crook of his arm.

He didn’t knock. When he came for dinner, she left the door open, and already the scents and sounds of the small bungalow drifted from inside. He walked in.

Arilyn stood in the kitchen, surrounded by pots and pans. She wore a stained apron that encouraged him to KISS THE CHEF. Feet bare, hair twisted up, clad in yoga pants, she grabbed her glass of wine and sipped while the sounds of a singer belting out lyrics not in English filled the air. Robert lay near the edge of the kitchen, purple bunny squeaker tucked firmly between his paws, head lifted as he waited for scraps to drop. Mrs. Blackfire and Patrick sat at the pine table with crackers and what looked like hummus, arguing over old movies and who were the greatest actor and actress of all time.

“There’s just no way you can’t pick Bogie,” Patrick stated. “He was a man’s man and a great romantic lead. No one touched him.”

Mrs. Blackfire snorted with disgust. “He mumbled and talked weird. Also not what you’d call handsome. Sorry, the real winner is Newman. Mr. Blue Eyes himself. He was a much better actor. Arilyn, do you have Ritz? These wheat things are a bit too crunchy.”