Love in Bloom (an erotic short story) Read online

  He rubbed his chest again, and then lifted the shirt to swipe the back of his neck, revealing his pale underarm. Oh, she’d loved that dark tuft of hair beneath his arm. She smiled as she thought about the time he’d awoken to discover she’d made a teeny-tiny braid with that silky hair. He’d chased her through the house, threatening to spank her for disrespecting his manhood, but when he’d caught her, he’d bent her over the kitchen table and given her a different kind of pounding instead.

  “We’ll make sure Lois Freely from Texas Weekly is invited, too,” Martha said, her pencil scratching across the pad.

  Her warm and fuzzy regrets dried up in an instant, and Sherry flipped the blinds, cutting off the delicious view. “You do that,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness from sneaking into her tone. “Can’t have her missing out on watching a fireman use his hose.”

  She remembered what her granny had said about wishes and assholes. Ever’body has ‘em, shoog. At least, she could cut one asshole out of her life. The papers were in her top drawer. The sooner she had them served, the better.

  Of course, she’d have to check her schedule first to see when she’d have time to call a process server. Hell, she should have done exactly what Blake’s brother had advised when he’d drawn up the divorce papers.

  “Honey, let me handle this for you.”

  She’d noted the sparkle in his eye and knew he didn’t believe she would ever go through with ending her marriage. Did he think she kept him on retainer just because she needed an expense to write off her taxes? Never mind the fact he only charged her twenty-five dollars a year.

  Years ago, Blake had asked Ryan why he’d accepted her as a client, seeing as how Ryan was his brother. Ryan had smiled. “Bro, don’t you want someone in this family knowin’ what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of hers?”

  Well, she would have the last laugh. Her puny retainer still ensured attorney-client privilege, and she’d specifically forbidden Ryan from warning Blake about what she was up to. If she worked up the nerve, maybe she’d deliver the papers herself and slap his naked, sweaty chest with that thick sheaf of legalese that would finally, and permanently, put an end to their seven-year marriage. Then she wouldn’t care how many wet down ceremonies he had. He could leave all the women of Caldera, Texas shiny and clean and wondering how the hell they’d ever find a lover like him again.

  *

  From the corner of his eye, Blake glanced up to the second floor window across the street. The blinds flipped closed, and he let out a deep sigh. For a moment, he’d felt her gaze all over his body. Back in the day, he’d been able to feel her gaze slipping over his skin, lifting goose bumps. A long, long time had passed since he’d felt that burn. Maybe he’d just been imagining the sensation now. Sherry had made it plain she was over him.

  “Benny, you send the mayor our request to hold a fundraiser?” he asked his sergeant. Didn’t matter it was his job to interface with the city. Regarding the mayor’s office, he just didn’t have the stomach to pretend Sherry was a stranger. He couldn’t keep it strictly business.

  “Yeah, boss. That dragon of a secretary said she’d pass the word. I told her it’s a good time, that the public would enjoy it. Sure could use the money we’d rake in with the spaghetti dinner.”

  Blake pursed his lips. They needed the funds to send the new volunteers for training in San Antonio. Perhaps he should deliver the request in person. Make sure that secretary of hers was giving her all of his messages. “I’ll follow up with the mayor,” he said, eyes narrowing.

  Benny’s lips pressed into a thin line.

  He was trying to hold back a smile. Likely thought the cool weather between him and his wife was just their latest tiff. Benny hadn’t been there the last time things went sideways.

  “You let her slide down your pole?” Sherry had said, her tone low and deadly.

  “You make it sound like she was sliding on this pole,” he said, cupping his dick. “She’s a reporter. Maybe she wanted her Bridget Jones moment.”

  Her arms crossed over her chest. “She was in a dress. Did you stand at the bottom of the pole?”

  He’d made the mistake of shrugging—something that made her nostrils flare like a bull’s when a toreador’s cape flapped. “It was her first time. I couldn’t have her injuring herself.”

  Sherry’s face had been beet red, not a pretty color with her red hair. And her gray eyes had screwed up so tight they’d looked like shiny silver daggers as she’d glared. That’s when he’d had his first inkling that she was really angry. Not you didn’t put your underwear in the laundry basket mad, but furious. Over Lois Freely.

  Didn’t she know her type was the last he’d be interested in? Selfishly ambitious—and she’d been rude to Benny, probably because Benny couldn’t leave off the cupcakes. No, she’d zoned in on Blake and clung like mosquito for her entire interview. So annoying. He’d come home in one hell of a bad mood only to walk in unprepared to negotiate a minefield of accusations.

  What hurt most wasn’t the fact she’d thought he’d looked up the woman’s skirt because he’d wanted to. Looking away had been impossible. Public safety and all. Maybe he shouldn’t have blurted her panties had been pink.

  The slap from Sherry’s fingers had stung his cheek. Then they’d both stared, holding their breath because they’d never gotten violent before. Not once.

  For Blake, what stung more was the fact Sherry didn’t trust him. They’d been together since high school, weathered hard times while they’d both put themselves through college, and she didn’t trust that he couldn’t keep his hands off Lois Freely?

  He’d been so pissed the day they’d fought he’d left to blow off steam, afraid he’d say something else he shouldn’t because he’d been so mad he couldn’t think. When he’d come back, he discovered the door was locked. And his key didn’t fit the damn Brinks.

  Ever since, trying to nail her down to talk had been futile. No one was more stubborn. That should have been her campaign slogan—Vote for Sherry Thacker, the Most Stubborn Woman in Texas.

  A voice cleared nearby, dragging him back to the subject at hand—the wet down ceremony.

  “Might want to borrow a flak jacket from Josh at the po-lice station,” Benny said, both eyebrows raised high.

  “I don’t need Kevlar to talk to my damn wife,” Blake muttered. He glanced down at his chest. He’d just finished tearing apart the old generator the station used during power outages. Grass clung to his skin, and he smelled like gasoline. “I’m showering first.”

  The tone for a fire truck and ambulance sounded over the loud speakers, followed by the digitized dispatcher providing the address. Blake shook out his shirt and tugged it quickly over his head. “Get to the watch desk, Benny. Radio me when you have more details.”

  Time to suit up. Talking to the mayor would have to wait until later. Truth was, he’d rather be swinging an axe to vent a roof on a burning building than face Sherry across her big wooden desk. Sherry in a snit was definitely scarier.

  Each time he worked himself up to the point he could keep calm enough to be in the same room with her, he was set off by something she said or did. Not that he ignited like a blow torch. But something inside would begin to burn, and all his anger and sorrow, all his loneliness, would coalesce and he couldn’t keep cool, couldn’t keep his neck from getting hot. He’d stand there, fists curling at his sides because all he wanted to do was charge around that monstrous desk and pluck her from her chair to give her a hard kiss.

  If he ever let it get to that, there’d be no stopping him from reaching under her skirt to scrape away her panties. In the blink of an eye, he’d be balls deep. And she’d like it. He knew she’d like it. She always had. Swore she wanted him rough and raw. Always.

  Hurt burned an ulcer in his belly. He glanced up at her shuttered window as the engine pulled out of the station.

  Well, baby, I’m still here.

  lin, Love in Bloom (an erotic short story)