Doll Face (Baby Doll #3) Page 13

  “Katie Bear,” he says, walking up to me. He doesn’t reach for me, he just looks at me with eyes identical to my own.

  “Dad.” I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around him. He lets out a surprised noise but hugs me back. The feel of his arms around me makes the tears come out harder. He feels like my childhood—warm, safe, and strong. He still holds the spicy smell of his aftershave, but there is a new smell to him, too; one that is sharp and institutional, like metal and cold. A reminder that he has changed—that I have changed—and no matter how much I want him to hold me and keep me safe, he can’t. I’m alone in this world.

  The guard clears his throat. “There is no physical contact between visitors and the inmates.” Dad nods at him and releases me, but I’m not ready to let go. I grip his hand for a moment before he pulls it away and sits down across from me. “You look well,” my dad says. He is in prison and still all those years under Mom’s careful scrutiny still affects him. Limit physical contact, always share pleasantries even if you don’t mean them, and, of course, no coddling. But Dad still broke that rule. When mom was not around, I remember sitting in his office with him late at night when I had a nightmare.

  “Thank you, and you do, too.” God, I’m still a robot. I want to scream.

  “How is your mother?”

  I’m sure high on a beach in Florida somewhere. “Fine, she is staying with Aunt June in Florida. She sends her love,” I lie.

  He nods. “That’s good. She needs to get away … for her health. And Rylee, have you heard from your sister?” Are we really doing this? Are we avoiding what is right in front of us, pretending we’re at some café catching up and not sitting in a room with armed guards unable to touch each other?

  “Dad, haven’t you talked to Mom or Rylee?”

  His expression falls slightly, but only for a moment before his business face is back on. “Your mother needed to take the trip to Florida. I will hear from her when she gets back. And your sister is busy with school I’m sure.” He smiles at me, but it’s fake; I can see the hurt and tiredness seeping through his careful façade. I want to scream that Mom filed for divorce and Rylee is off humping whoever she needs to, to stay in school, and me I’m falling apart on the inside while trying to hold it all together on the outside.

  “Dad, why did you do it?” I ask low so that only he can hear me. However, I’m sure we are on surveillance and can be overheard if it was needed. Wanting to keep this family’s shameful secret private is no longer an option—there is no rug to sweep it under, just cold concrete walls.

  “Katie, please.” He averts his gaze to his laced fingers, no longer meeting my eyes.

  “Dad, who are you protecting? Look around. Mom is in Florida, with a bottle of pills and a martini, and Rylee is off at her school sleeping with anyone she can get between her legs, and you … How did you get here? How did we get here, Dad?” Once I say it out loud and not trying to cover it up, it’s like a weight has been lifted off me. I feel awake like I just drank a cup of coffee. I don’t expect him to answer me—for far too long he has laid a sheet over the mess of our life because that is what we were trained to do. Blooms don’t show emotion.

  “When the economy started to fall, so did the money. Your mother and you girls were used to living a certain way, so I did what I had to do to keep it up.” I think about my car, my graduation present that replaced a car that was as equally good. The thousands and thousands of dollars on a private college. The house, the help, my mother never in the same designer outfit twice, the country club, the handbags, vacations, and bank accounts in each of our names. I feel sick. Did we need all of that? Does any of it matter now? I think about Adam and his dad. His beat up old house, and how what they have is enough. The open, honest relationship they have, one that is filled with love and acceptance. How my family looks down on people like that. How I looked down on him, how I judged him too quickly, but he is nothing like I thought he is. How he accepts my flaws and doesn’t want me to hide them. I don’t deserve him.

  “Dad.” And there are no words. I could say I’m sorry, that I would have understood, but that would be a lie, more fake pleasantries. The truth is that all I could think about was how I was affected. “Dad, I was working on your case with Mr. Basest.”

  My dad looks up and gives me a sad smile. “Jim told me.”

  “I think that we might be able to get your sentence lowered, and you’ll be out sooner than you thought.”

  “Then what? I go back to my office in the city, back to the house that the bank now owns? Katie, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I have nothing anymore. I no longer even have my family,” he says, a sad smile placed on his face.

  “Dad, you still have me. And Rylee I know you still have her. Mom—”

  My father shakes his head sadly, cutting me off. The buzzer rings and the announcement that visiting hour are now over cracks through the speaker. Rising, Dad taps on the table.

  “Katie, I’m glad to see you looking so well. Thank you for coming to see me.”

  I grip his wrist before he can leave. “Dad, I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Katie Bear.” He starts to walk away, but I can’t let him go, not yet. Not like this, not when another month will go by before I’m allowed to see him again.

  “Dad,” I call to him. He turns, his eyes so sad. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “I know you are.” After giving me a brief smile, he walks through the door.

  When I step out in to the sun, I tilt my head toward the warmth and it chases out the cold that lingers on me. I feel reborn. Maybe everything is a mess and my life is far from perfect, but coming to terms with my new life feels good. I feel like I can move in a new direction of figuring out what that life will be. I can slowly begin to let go of my old life and take this new journey. Everything is a brilliant bright white, bathed in the sun. I squint through it, looking for Adam, and there he is. For a moment I cannot breathe; I don’t move, I just stare at him in awe. He is leaning against the hood of my car, his baseball hat pulled down low, but I can still see his dark eyes—they stand out in the bright light. His mouth splits into that crooked, cocky smirk of his, as he looks up at me. My heart slams into my chest, and my stomach flutters with excitement and that charge of electricity pulsates through me.

  I walk slowly and purposely across the parking lot toward him, each step I take pushes a wave of heat through me. He watches each step just as precisely as if he is etching each move I make into his memory. When I reach him, I want to say something witty, something charming, but I’m lost for words. Luckily, I don’t need any, because he reaches for me, and pulling me against him he brings his mouth down on mine. I let him take control, his lips gentle but firm working against mine. Licking my bottom lip, he coaches my mouth open as his tongue slips into my mouth, mingling with my own. The heat that was there turns to fire as my body responds to him. I let him kiss away any and all doubt of us and let him fill me with hope and excitement for the future. Gripping onto the sleeves of his shirt, I pull him closer on my tiptoes; he responds by lifting me up and kissing me harder. Oh boy, I’m in trouble.

  He stops kissing me, but only for a moment to say, “I think prison did you good.” I smack him on the arm but smile at him. Grasping his face in my hands I kiss him one more time, putting all I have behind it. Once we are both breathless and slightly dizzy, he sets me back down. “Here, I picked this for you why I was waiting.” He hands me a little white daisy.

  “Adam, I have to work.” I smile through his kiss. When Paula stepped out to pick up lunch, Adam snuck in.

  “You are working.” He sits on the counter, me between his legs. Reaching around, he squeezes my ass. “Did I tell you, you look sexy as hell today?”

  “A few times, but you can tell me again.” I catch his bottom lip gently between my teeth. It has been a few days since we went to the prison. A few days of us doing exactly this—stolen kisses. We have not defined our relationship, which I’m t
hankful he hasn’t asked. This is both exciting and scary. I thought I knew what I was going to do to get my life back on track, but being with Adam changes the game plan, and I’m not sure that I want a new one at the moment. What Adam and I are doing is fun.

  “Let me take you somewhere this weekend?” he asks, nuzzling my neck.

  “I don’t know. You and I, alone for the weekend, it can’t be anything good you have planned,” I tease. I think if Adam asked me to go to the moon I would.

  “You know me so well.”

  “Well in that case, yes.” I kiss him one more time before stepping away from him.

  “It’s time for you to go. I’m serious! I need to go back to work, Paula is going to return any moment and you don’t want her to find you in the state you are now.” I glance at his crotch and then back to his face, blushing.

  “We have plenty of time before she gets back. Besides, I want to ask you something.” He reaches for me, but I step out of his reach and sit back at the computer, trying to pretend to not care.

  “Oh, and what’s that?” I say nonchalantly.

  “Have you ever made love, Red?”

  “What kind of question is that?” I say defensively as warmth slips through my body.

  “Answer the question … have you ever made love?” He moves so that he is now in front of me and leans forward, his breath tickling my check.

  “God, you’re such animal,” I mutter, trying to avoid the question. I take in the sheen of his biceps; his hands are covered in a black grease. Did he even bother to shower before he came over here?

  “Answer the question.”

  “If you are asking if I’m a virgin, then the answer is no,” I say snarkily, turning back to the computer screen in front of me. He grips my chair and spins me around so that I’m facing him. Gulping, I look up at his face. His blue eyes sparkle with something playful in them. I swallow hard again.

  He leans down to whisper in my ear, his lips brush the bottom of my earlobe. “That’s not what I’m asking. Has anyone ever made love to you? Made your orgasm so hard you are left panting, trying to remember your own name?” I don’t know—I’m having trouble remembering my name now. My legs shake under me. “Because when I make love to you, you are not going to remember your name.” His hand moves to my chin and he drags his finger across it. I’m frozen, a humming begins alive inside of me. Swiftly he moves his leg so it rests between my knees. Oh my, God, the wrong day to wear a skirt. “I’m going to do things to you that you fantasize about at night when you are alone in bed.” He reaches my neck, his lips taunting me. Oh please just put your mouth on my neck. Pulling the chair closer, he gently pushes his knee into me. I’m instantly wet as soon as I feel the pressure between my legs. I can’t help it—a moan escapes my lips. It’s the last thing I want to do, let him know that he is getting a reaction out of me, but just the pressure of his knee has my inside spasm. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you?” he asks. My head bobs lazily up and down. “Caress those perfect tight nipples, like this.” He grips the bottom of my breast firmly with his hand, and his thumb rubs back and forth. My head falls back and the moan that has been building slips out.

  “If you two are done with your foreplay, we have two cars that we still need to be picked up,” James says behind us.

  I jump up so quickly that I bump into the computer and send a stack of papers to the ground. Adam, still sitting there smiling at me, turns lazily to James. “Trust me that was not foreplay.” Smirking, he gives me a wink.

  “Whatever it was, I’m just glad it’s over because I was about to lose my lunch.” He pulls a cigarette from the back of his pocket and walks out.

  “See you bright and early, Doll Face,” Adam says as he backs out the door behind James.

  The headlights fall on a small weathered cottage. It has a quaint beach appeal to its—grey peeling paint with wide pink shutters. When Adam told me he wanted to drive down to the Florida panhandle to meet his mother, I was hesitant, but I wanted to support him, the same way he supported me with my father.

  “This is it.” Adam gets out of the truck and makes his way to my side, opening the door for me. Taking my hand he helps me out, leading me up the sandy driveway. The windows are open and yellow gingham curtains billow out from the ocean breeze. Salt lingers in the air that blows around us.

  “Adam, I don’t know about this. I can get a hotel room.” I hesitate, looking up at the small house. I’m about to meet his mom—how did we jump from hating each other to meeting the parents?

  “Are you kidding me? My mom would be insulted if you didn’t stay here. Besides, she is not even home yet, we have the whole house to ourselves.”

  My heart flutters. I take a deep breath as I look in Adam’s hopeful face. I’m not sure I’m ready to take our relationship as far as he would like to. Yes, there has been a lot of foreplay and build up to it, but that is as far as it has gone.

  “At least, come inside,” he says, still sensing my hesitation. I agree and we walk hand in hand into the house, the weathered look following us inside. We stand in a tiny kitchen that is painted yellow with matching the curtains, and large sunflower heads peek through the kitchen window. There is a blue refrigerator from the fifties covered in magnets from all fifty states and inspirational quotes. Paint is splattered on the counters and in the small metal sink. Red drips of paint move around the kitchen floor as if someone was dancing with a wet paint brush. Adam said his mother was an artist and a bit eccentric which I can see is true as we move through the house.

  Adam turns on lights as we make our way through the house. Multi-colored Christmas tree lights hang around the room that serves as a sitting room; they flicker on, adding to the ambiance of the place. A large orange and white cat watches us from the top of a high bookshelf that doesn’t hold books, but instead art supplies, cups of paint brushes, half painted pottery, and a basket of pieces of broken glass. There are also canvases with abstract paintings on them stacked against walls. I stop looking at a painting of a girl screaming. She is broken up into boxes; each one a different color, a different meaning. I feel connected to her, somehow. She is me—a million different pieces trying to hold it all together, ready to scream.

  “Our room is this way.” Adam comes up behind me.

  “Our?” I question him.

  He holds up his hand. “I will be on my best behavior, I promise. Until you tell me otherwise.” Tugging me to him, he kisses me gently on the mouth and I go limp in his arms, wondering what my reluctance was in the first place.

  “Our” room is smaller than my closest at home. Christmas lights are strung up around the room in here, too. French doors open up to a small porch that looks out to the ocean. A full-sized bed sits on a brass frame with canopy netting draped over it. The wood floor is worn down so much that in places it’s so thin that it feels like it might break through. Sand sits in spots that have deep groves in the planks; in other places, the floor has gaps so wide it allows the breeze from the ocean to come in. An assortment of rugs sit scattered about, and another cat sits on a tiny dresser. This one is black with yellow watching eyes. Adam sets our bags down in a tiny closet. I’m staring at the floor when the boards creak and his feet move to stand next to me.

  “What’s wrong, Doll Face?” He wraps his arms around me, secure and safe. I lean into him, pressing as hard as I can. I’m waiting for something to go wrong, for him to tell me this is a joke. I’m waiting for everything to be taken away from me.

  “Are you sure you want your mother to meet me? What if she doesn’t like me?” I look up at him and my breath catches because oh my God he is gorgeous. He sits down on the bed, pulling me with him so that I’m on his lap.

  “Of course, I want her to meet you! You’re the most important person in my life.” His hands instantly go to me; in my hair, on my face, touching my back—a gesture I wasn’t sure of, but now find comforting. “How could she not like you? Look at you, you’re perfect.”

  I
turn so that I’m straddling him, and he leans back on the bed, propped up on one elbow while his other hand grips my thigh. Warm and strong, but they hold on to me gently as if I might break into a million pieces and blow away with the sand.

  “You know what I’m really thinking?” I purr against his lips.

  “I don’t know, but God, please tell me.” He grips my bare leg tighter and my skin tingles where he touches me.

  “I’m waiting to see the real you, the part that says, ‘Ha, ha, I fooled you. I really am an asshole’.” I lean back, pressing my hands to his chest so I can see into his eyes. His hand finds the back of my head.

  “Katie, this is me, I’m not going to change. How I feel about you is not going to change, and if it takes the rest of my life to prove it to you, then I will wait patiently for the day you trust me to come.” And even though my brain is screaming ‘don’t trust him, don’t trust anyone,’ my heart aches to believe him. I let him pull me down so that we are pressed together. And I turn off my brain. I’m not going to deny it anymore—I’m attracted to him. My body jolts alive when his mouth devours mine. The salty taste of his tongue fills my mouth as it slips between my lips, and I kiss him back. This time, it’s different; not desperate like before, or teasing—which is what we have been doing—but patient.

  The desire to be closer to him overtakes me and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer. Pressing my lips as hard as I can to his, our teeth clatter together and he smiles, pulling just slightly apart, but I push harder, wanting him. His hands move to my face, his fingers splayed across my jaw and neck. Each fingertip sends little sparks of heat through me until I feel like I’m on fire. He takes over and I let him control the kiss. He is soft and gentle, his tongue brushing across my bottom lip. It drives me crazy, and right before I don’t think I can take it anymore his tongue finds its way back into my mouth. A sigh that has been building since I met him escapes me, and he mimics the noise with his own seductive growl. His hands travel down my sides to my hips, pushing the fabric of my shirt up. I reach for him, tugging the shirt over his head to reveal the caramel skin underneath. My hands explore the map of his stomach and up to his shoulder. Reaching around, I let my fingers rake the soft skin of his back. He slides his hand down my stomach, finding the button of my shorts and tugging it free. Then, in an incredibly smooth move, he flips me under him and slides my shorts down, until I’m in nothing more than my bra and panties. I’m grateful I wore the sexy little sheer blue ones with the tiny white bow in the middle. He looks me over with an approving gaze. I bite my bottom lip, apprehension building so tightly in me, I feel I might lose control.