All of These Things (5 page)

“I’ll do just that,” he says, turning and entrapping me in an intense gaze. “Save my place.”

I don’t even want to look at Sofie because I certainly don’t need to see her to know what she’s thinking. She’s no doubt rejoicing from Alec’s flirtatious command.

“Oh, shut up!” I blurt. “Did you know he was in Montreal? I saw him two days ago. He delivered a painting to Cat’s House, and he actually remembered me from your screensaver. How creepy is that!”

“You don’t say,” she answers, too composed for my liking.

“Sofie?” I say. “Sofie!

“Oh, relax. I showed you pictures of him, too, I’m sure. He’s in a bunch of them from last summer.”

I try arranging my thoughts. It would explain why Alec looked so familiar, and as I attempt to marshal my theories and collect ideas on how I feel about this, I reach a deliberation.

“Oh my God. Are you serious right now? Are you trying to set us up, Sofie? I have Ryan!” I stare, dumbfounded. Fury rockets through me.

“So what. I won’t tell,” she counters. “And, no, I wasn’t trying anything, Caroline, but I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind.”

“Who even does something like that?” I ask, rising to my feet. “What kind of person tries to single-handedly destroy her best friend and cousin’s good and decent, happy relationship? Who Sof? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I noticed Alec gawking at your picture, and one time I straight out asked if you were his type. I guess the universe put the wheels in motion.”

“Oh, would you cut it out with all of that. Let me tell
you
something about the universe. The universe cooked up a plan for me to walk into a bookstore at the same time Ryan was there. There’s your universe. You can’t dictate the universe, Sofie. You, of all people, should know that with your meditations and Feng Shui and Shamans. You’re virtually bordering on witchcraft! And now you’re strategizing against the universe? What would your leader, Ruby, say about that, hey?”

Sofie’s eyes narrow, and her chin upswings insolently. She takes a step closer to stab a glare.

“First of all, Ruby is a guide, not a leader. And let me tell you one thing right now—I saw more excitement whooshing inside you tonight than I ever saw with Ryan. Even when you first met him and introduced him to me, I saw zero spark. There was no thrill and no buzz.”

“Stop watching over me,” I say aggressively.

“I don’t feel like it,” Sofie boasts.

“You’re incorrigible, you know that. Like a hemorrhoid! You’re this eternal pain in my ass.”

It never fails. I always feel late to the game around Sofie, and she’s continuously throwing me onto new field. She ventures into social circles with open arms, and I’m left dizzy in her rotations, and then need her like a lifeline.

“We’re just talking, you know. Me and Alec,” I say, pulling myself together.

“It’s sexy isn’t it... the accent?”

I give her a signature mark of a roll of my eyes and devour the food. I needed that more than I knew.

“It’s interesting. That’s all. I should get my phone. Need anything from inside?”

“Yeah, maybe a backbone for you, or a life should you find one lying around.”

I try adopting a stern stance but the inebriate that I am has tipped my equilibrium, so my only expression is a scowl.

“You exhaust me,” I grumble.

Sofie yelps, and I walk away.

Chapter Six

The kitchen floor is sticky under my feet which makes me nervous. I don’t understand the concept of wood flooring in a high traffic area of a house. It’s warm and attractive but tiling makes more sense to me. What if we ruin it? What if the owners don’t find the wood in the same condition it was prior to our rental? I have an incessant urge to start washing things. There are clutters of bottles and trays on the black granite of the white kitchen. I scan the small corner shelves over the sink and locate my phone. A slender, wooden boat contains the ashy ruins of expired incense. Sofie thinks it clears the air of bad karma and negativity. Personally, I light them for fragrance.

I find one missed text from Ryan:

I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible, terrible, awful person. I inhaled every whiff I could get of a British guy while my hard working, overzealous boyfriend was missing me back home. I’m utterly deplorable.

I’m lucky I met someone like Ryan. He’s flattering and affectionate and incredibly kind and attractive. I love that he’s ambitious and stays objective. He’s a clear-thinker, and I liked that about him from our first date. His message was brief and fun, and it manages to charm me all over. He’s a good boyfriend, and I’m truly the luckiest girl.

I tap on the green phone icon and find his name at the top of my favourites. We’ve only spoken once today, and now I miss him.

“There she is,” he says after a second ring.

“Hi. So, you miss me already?”

“Of course. Especially your lips—badly. I thought of them, too, a few times today.”

“Oh, really? And how did you manage?”

“Let’s just say business communication classes and market analysis helped numb the pain.”

I laugh, leaning against the counter.

“How are the lobsters?” he asks.

“Hey, that’s not all there is here. Don’t you diss it! Maine is beautiful. We should come here together.”

For one reason or another, I’m already regretting that statement.

“That sounds nice, baby. So tell me, what are the two of you up to tonight?”

Oh, nothing special really except I had eye sex with a stunning British guy.

“Sofie invited some acquaintances for drinks, and we’re sitting around a fire. You?” That was fairly honest. I give myself a mental high five before succumbing to the urge of slapping myself.

Ryan tells me about his training and schoolwork as I struggle to sound interested. My head feels heavy on my shoulders, and I run cold water and fill a glass. I manage a few words, hearing him but not truly listening, and succeed at not putting my indifference into words or sighs. My apathy upsets me, but I know it’s because I’m lazy on my feet. After amorous salutations, we end our conversation.

“So, you managed to escape?” Alec startles me.

I can see him clearly under the kitchen lights. His hands are in the front pockets of his jeans, and his head drops forward, but his eyes leap up at me. I’m quite keen for the tinge of a cleft in his chin, and those lips are sinfully plump. His faint stubble beckons my fingertips, and I force myself not to imagine touching it. Those muscles that I have no name for clench again.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what, love?”

“Creep up on me. Why do you do that?”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that I had. Forgive me, Caroline. Dance?”

It’s hardly a request because his hand has seized mine, and we walk towards the door. “You dance?”

“You don’t?” he asks with a lopsided glance.

“Yes, but you don’t look like you dance.”

“Good! I’ve managed to surprise you. Point for me. Now it’s your turn.”

I stagger behind him until he pulls me into his hard chest. I have to force thoughts of Ryan—of Ryan and his pretty incredible chest.

As if preying on my private thoughts, a bluesy rendition of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” commands our stride and pace.

“Do you enjoy jazz?” Alec asks.

“If I say yes, do I get a point?”

He laughs a genuine snigger. “I’d have to say yes, since it’s unusual today. So what, Pitbull and Beyoncé are not your thing?”

“I told you already. My taste is eclectic.”

How is he so light on his feet, especially in those boots? Ryan’s dancing has a more sensual character, but it’s easy to imagine Alec in a suit and tie. Too easy, perhaps, because I want to ward off these repulsive thoughts, but he smells too good to try. I’m guessing a citrus mint body wash under musk and leather all wrapped in the woody haze from the fire.
Oh God, I’m smelling him again.
I should jump into the freezing Atlantic to escape this trance.

“Alec! You’re not performing tonight. What’s got you so distracted? The fire needs prodding.”

O’Something’s voice hauls me out from my reveries, and I notice Alec watching me closely—lost in his own state of bemusement.

“You can have the honour, mate. My hands are otherwise engaged,” he says, and I don’t like the sound of that so I move, initiating a much-needed gap between our bodies.

“You should go,” I say. “Sofie’s counting on you.”

Alec’s lips part, and his tongue darts out to lick the top one. I imagine it like velvet, and am aware of the drops of moisture on it. Suddenly, I crave to discover it with my own.

Afraid that my vexing need has exposed me, I release his hold and struggle to formulate a reason for the detachment.

“Go on,” I say. “I’m weak on my feet anyway.”

Finally, we disconnect.

“Don’t you dare, Caroline!” orders Sofie, grabbing the sponge from my hand and thwacking me with a dishcloth. “After these two get the fuck out of this house, you’re going to bed. We’ll clean up in the morning.”

Surely, she can’t be serious. That’s the equivalence of finding presents tucked under a Christmas tree and telling a child to wait for tomorrow. On any other night, I’d ignore Sofie and immediately whirl into a cleaning ninja. Waking up to a messy kitchen is a definite pet peeve, yet I’m shaky on my feet, so I choose sleep instead.

It’s impressive, really, how notably lax I can be here, and to be honest, I know it has everything to do with Sofie. The realization actually ticks me off a little bit.

Damn that woman.

Gwen and Diane remain oblivious to our displeasure, carrying on comparing pictures of their home remodelling projects. They’re DIY authorities, and usually I admire people like that, but tonight I find them irritating. It’s after midnight, and I’m staggering around the living room. Sofie’s grabbing items for a walk on the beach with Jay as he waits somewhere out back. Frankly, she and I couldn’t care less about Gwen’s heated flooring or Diane’s textured wallpaper. Well, I couldn’t care less, but Sofie just doesn’t give a fuck. I want to sleep, and she wants Jason.

Turning my back to the littered counter that’s calling my name, I walk out on the plates and trays soaking in the sink and dry my hands. I admit it’s quite an achievement for me. Anxiously, Sofie leads the women out, eager to escape to her
rendez-vous
.

“Night-night, Care.” Sofie’s brimming with ridiculous need. I can almost feel her pulsating fervour. She’s mad about the guy!

“Have fun,” I say, then lock the back door but immediately yank it open again. “Wait! Do you have a key with you?” I shout.

“Yes!” she bellows.

I yawn, dragging myself across the kitchen, and a knock interrupts my closing time.

“Shit,” I mumble, assuming either Gwen or Diane have forgotten something.

I switch the light off in the kitchen, wobbling over to the lamp on the console. I flick it on before reaching the door and labour with three aggravating security devices. I unlock, unbolt, and unchain the main entryway expecting to see Dumb and Dumber—as Sofie fondly refers to them. Before I can completely look up, or speak, two masked persons push me further inside.

“Your party’s finally over. Now you can party with us,” one hisses, and the other clasps my mouth shut with his hands, tying a rag around my jaw.

I’m trying not to mentally shut down, but I’m confused and petrified. I’m too stunned to recall any self-defence techniques, and the alcohol has weakened me. My moans and shrieks are feeble as I kick, scratch, and grip at whatever I can. I’m weighed down and hopelessly ineffective.

“Where’s the other one? I saw someone else in here. Find her upstairs and tie her up, too.”

Sofie.

I sob, trying to move violently about but pose no threat to the dark eyes gawking down at me.

“Shit. You’re a gorgeous one. Fuck me, you’re hot,” he says holding a long, vicious stare.

I try yelling, but my exertions are futile. I’m weary and paralyzed by fear and wine.

“There’s no one else here. Tie this one up and let’s roll,” the taller, more robust invader instructs his partner.

“Get a head start upstairs. I want a few minutes with blondie first.”

“We don’t have all night. Find a purse, some jewellery, and let’s get the fuck out.”

“I said start without me! This one’s calling my name, aren’t you, blondie? Fuck you’re really something special.”

Behind the gag, I make throaty shrills. I’m unable to reach a phone or any petty object to fight back. I twist and thrash, and the intruder pulls me across the room by my hair. His knee connects with my chest, forcing me onto the sofa. The back of my head hits hard against the arm rest. I feel my stomach rise, and I choke on its bitter acid.

“One way or another, blondie I’m gonna fuck you, so stop kicking, bitch.”

I’m like a terrorized doe in headlights as I watch him loosen his pants. They drop to his knees, and he takes no chances with my shorts, dragging them down and yanking them off at my feet. My sandals are lost in them with my underwear. I try lashing out with my legs, managing to kick his chest and face. I moan and whimper.

My head is heavy, raided with thoughts. I want Sofie returning to the house close enough to detect that’s something’s off, but I don’t want her anywhere inside.

Please, somebody. Help me.

“You don’t listen, blondie. Don’t fight me, bitch! Stop kicking.”

His hand claws around my neck, and it presses my head deep into the sofa. My abdomen constricts, and I can’t breathe. My lungs expel a cough. My upper body is overcome but my legs don’t quit. His other arm slides around my waist heaving me to his pelvis and his vile, disgusting flesh is against mine.

Oh, God. Please, no! Please don’t rape me. I’d rather die.

I’m so weak, and my breath is trapped and fading.

“I’ll let you breathe so I can see your tits,” he says, releasing my throat to dig his hand under my top. I sense the mask hides a demented smile, and my chest recovers from the throttlehold.

“Fuck, blondie. I can come just looking at you.”

From above, two arms pull the attacker off my exhausted body. He’s hauled back, and my rescuer strikes and tackles him against a wall. The console and frames are caught in the battle, toppling over. My saviour is nimble and obviously a skilled fighter. I’m breathing heavily, trembling and panic-stricken when I recognize my knight in shining armor. I reconcile that sweet salvation has arrived for me.

Alecsander.

He heads for the man bolting down the white stairway who makes a failed attempt to leave the house. With my hands still fastened behind me, my legs fidget, endeavouring to slide a throw cover over my naked form. I’m utterly depleted.

Alec restrains the men, calling for help before rushing to my side. He unties the gag and releases my hands. At last I can properly veil my body.

His palms press against my cheeks, and his grey-blue eyes empty themselves into mine. They sear a moment longer and then he stands, flashing across the room to return to the trespassers. They’re barely moving, but they’re not dead. Their breathing is dim, and I can see the slight rise and fall of their chests.
What are they doing in this town?
These things don’t happen in a place like this. We should be going to bed with our doors unlocked.

Alec affronts them. He growls insults and at the same time remembers to check in on me. He makes another call demanding an update if help’s been dispatched. Siren lights hit the windows, and finally we hear a car advancing towards the house.

Next to Sofie, I sit numb and dazed on a loveseat. It’s after 3:00 am, and Alec and Jay escort the sheriffs out before returning to our sides. Alec recovers the spills and evidence from the fight, and Jason offers water and Advil, which I accept. I’m fully clothed with a blanket over my shoulders, and Sofie’s looking around the room, biting her nails and stroking my hair.

They watched us, waiting for the right moment to move in, and even succeeded with most of their plan. Sheriff McBride said it was an easy, common plot, and thank God it was only almost flawless. It was probably all for drug money, and they knew the signs of a vulnerable house. He’ll call us sometime in the morning with procedures, and hopefully more definite information on the men they towed out of here.

“Are you sure the asshole didn’t go any further?” Sofie asks, suddenly breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure. Alec came in at the perfect time.” I look fondly over to him. I hope he knows how grateful I am.

A curl of his lips tells me he does.

“I may take a hot bath before bed, but I’m not sure I can fall asleep. So what do you say, Care... slumber party? I won’t punch you in the face like when we were kids. It’s a king size bed.”

I look to Jay, and suddenly I’m desperate he stays the night with us.

“Aren’t you staying over?” I ask.

“I’ll sleep down here, or in one of the other rooms,” he reassures.

I admire how resilient Sofie is with all that’s transpired. She takes the pressure off a bad situation with ease.

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good,” I say, attempting a courageous answer, doing my part to lighten the tension.