Until the Stars Fall From the Sky (13 page)

Kiera laughs self-consciously, as she mumbles, “Okay, that’s either the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me or the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard. Because of your reputation as a Boy Scout, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and go with sweet.”

“That’s good because I haven’t even started on the things I’ve noticed about your amazing hair, imminently kissable lips and perfect breasts,” I gush, stopping and lavishing attention on each location as I name them off like a tourist on vacation.

“Stop!” Kiera shrieks, snorting with laughter. Reflexively, I jump back and raise my hands in the air to show her that I am no longer touching her. “No, no,” she quickly explains, “I just want you to stop describing me like I belong in some Victoria Secret catalog. I’m sure it’s not true and it really borders on TMI.”

There is a funky wooden ring between her breasts and I notice that it perfectly frames a heart-shaped mole. I stop to softly target a kiss there as I lift her into the hot tub. “Pip, I wish you could see yourself like I see you,” I reply as I hold her in an embrace,
her legs now around my waist. “For me, you define sexy. You are everything I’m not. Vivacious and funny, friendly and fearless in the face of bullies. Physically, you turn me on like no woman ever, but what I feel for you goes so far beyond that level, I can’t even find the right words to tell you. Pip, I hate to tell you, those models have got nothing on you
.
Not. One. Dandelion. Thing.” I kiss her with each pause to underscore my words.

“Whew,” she
whispers huskily, “for a shy guy, you wield words like a magic wand. I’m not really sure what to say except that I hope you’re not disappointed when you figure out that I’m not really all that and a bag of chips.”

“Umm, I’m not really Miss Manners, but I think the appropriate response here is ‘Thank you, Jeff’ or if you want to be all southern about it ‘Why, I do declare Mr. Whitaker, what a lovely compliment. Thank you so much.’ Whichever you prefer is fine by me,” I tease.

I watch in fascination as a blush creeps up her body, obvious in her bikini. She gives a sharp bark of laughter. “Fine, Mr. Smarty-Pants, let’s see how comfortable you are when you’re in the hot-seat, shall we?” Kiera retorts as she tries to push me toward the corner seat. I oblige and sink down into the bubbles as she perches on a higher ledge. She rakes her eyes over me as she puts a fingertip to her lips and creases her brow in concentration. “Hmm, let’s see… Should I start at the top of your hunky head and go down or maybe I should start at your sexy feet and go up?”

All I can say is that it’s a good thing I’m sitting down and covered by the roiling, frothy activity of the hot tub because the vivid image her words conjured up has me instantly hard. If I imagine her kissing her way up my body from my toes and pausing anywhere along the way with her long hair draping over my body like a silk curtain, I’m likely to lose it before she even has an opportunity to touch me. “Lady’s choice,” I manage to croak.

“Given the positively predatory expression on your face at the moment, I’m going to opt for the safer option and start from the top,” she replies. “Jeffery Whitaker is an uncommonly handsome man with soft black curly hair that is so shiny that you have to touch it just to see if it’s wet. His eyes are the color of my favorite dark chocolate and just as yummy. He clearly believes in judicious manscaping as evidenced by the lack of a uni-brow and unsightly nose and ear hair. A fact I greatly appreciate. He has adorable dimples and a cleft in his chin. His shoulders are wide and his waist narrow. His tattoos are sexy and meaningful without being garish. You could do the neighborhood’s wash on his abs because they are so defined. Even his feet are sensual because they are neat and clean without hair or warts and stuff.” Kiera pauses to blatantly peruse me. “Still, as attractive as all the packaging is, those aren’t the things I like most about you.

“I like that you care deeply about doing every job you have the right way, not just the easy way. That speaks volumes about you. I like that your family means enough to you that you deferred your dreams to help them. I love that you asked your mom to make me that gorgeous flower arrangement knowing the flowers themselves spelled out a clear apology. I especially love that you were fanciful enough to find Orion’s Belt on my shoulder, yet geeky enough to know what you were looking at. Do you want to know the thing I love most of all?” Kiera asks quietly.

I nod, trying not to hold my breath. This is much tougher than I had imagined.

Kiera smiles coyly. “I love that you forget to be shy around me. I get a version of Jeff that is witty and fun, somewhat snarky and an outrageous flirt. In fact, you’re almost bold when you’re not overcome with your inner Boy Scout.” She winks before continuing, “I feel honored that you trust me enough to let me see beyond the polite facade.”

“It’s you, Pip. You give me the courage to open up and be my true self. I’ve never been emotionally forthcoming or bold. But, if bold is what you need from me, I’m happy to provide it. Is that the theme of the night, Pip?” I ask as I scoop her up into a loose embrace, trapping her arms against my chest. When she nods, every nerve ending in my body goes on high alert.

I kiss her deeply, running my tongue across the seam of her lips, seeking entry into her warm wet mouth. As I run my tongue along hers in a silent duel of passion, she begins to suck on mine with rhythmic suction. My knees buckle as desire floods my body, raw and sizzling. I know she can feel me pulsing against her because
I’m so aroused that the slightly rough texture of the lining of the suit feels like sandpaper against me. I envision wrapping myself in her sumptuous hair instead. As the thought crosses my consciousness, my pelvic region decides to do its own Gangnam dance independent from the rest of my body, without regard to my potential embarrassment or the awkwardness of the situation.

Even as I try to freeze in place to avoid making matters worse, Kiera grabs my waistband and pulls me closer. Her hips are undulating against mine in subtle figure eight patterns as she continues to rain kisses on my face and neck. She wraps her legs around my waist again. This time it seems much more intimate, since she can literally feel the evidence of my desire twitching against her. Only two thin suits stand in the way of pure bliss.
What? I’m not that guy and Kiera’s definitely not that kind of woman.
Bold or not, I didn’t come here tonight to take her virginity in a hot tub.

“Kiera, we’ve been in here a while, we probably need to go cool down,” I suggest, looking toward the side.

“I guess you’re right. I didn’t realize that we had been in here so long. Let me take a cool shower to help lower my body temperature.” Kiera replies, “Yet, you do realize that my inability to regulate my body temperature is just a side effect of the autonomic dysreflexia, right? The hot tub doesn’t technically cause an episode.”

“Kiera, it’s dangerous for
anyone
to be in the hot-tub for too long. My frat brothers used to call me the ‘Hall Monitor’ because I used to ride them so much.” I just can’t help myself. I have to lighten the mood so I smirk as I quip, “Well, I kind of need a cold shower too, but for entirely different reasons.”

Kiera smirks right back “Did I ever claim that my shower doesn’t have a dual purpose, PC? I’ll be right out,” she says with a wink over her shoulder as she disappears into the bathroom.

When I finished with my shower, I come into the kitchen to find pie and the vanilla ice cream that I brought waiting for me, along with freshly made iced tea. Kiera is sitting at the breakfast nook braiding her hair into a thick ponytail. Gently, I move her hands aside, and I pick up her hairbrush. “Pip, your hair is absolutely breathtaking. The colors are like a tropical sunset, and it’s so soft that I want to get lost in it.” I spend a couple of minutes, brushing the tangles out starting at the roots and moving toward the ends.

Kiera is one of the most tactile people I have ever known. I watch as her body sways to match the arc of each stroke. As I work to untangle one unusually stubborn knot, I brush my fingertips across her collarbone and down her arm. A trail of goose bumps mark my path and her nipples harden. Kiera shivers as she utters in a hoarse whisper
, “I guess we better eat the pie before the ice cream melts. I think you’ve earned it, PC.”

I quickly finish plaiting her hair into a simple French braid so that her ponytail falls like a rope down the center of her spine. As I get to the end, I ask her, “Do you have a hairband for this?”

She seems startled, as she reaches up to feel what I’ve done. “Will my scrunchie work? How did you do that so fast? It would have taken me hours, and I’d have still gotten it crooked.”

I shrug
as I answer, “I don’t know. I’ve been doing this since before I could tie my shoes. It’s like breathing to me. I don’t even think about it. I find that aspect of it relaxing. There are no life-and-death consequences arising from the way that I choose to braid someone’s hair, and if they don’t like it, I just do it again.” I slide the scrunchie from her wrist and pause to kiss the delicate skin at her pulse point.

After I finish securing her ponytail, I sit down at the kitchen table to devour the peach pie. “Peach pie is one of my absolute favorites,” I say with open admiration
. “My grandma used to make it for my grandpa all the time.”

Curiously, Kiera blushes slightly as she replies, “Well, I hope mine measures up to your grandma’s pie.” Kiera cautiously sets some in front of me and watches for my reaction.

As I take a bite, I can’t hold back a moan of pleasure that escapes my lips, “Oh wow! This is delicious,” I praise effusively. My grandmother would have been very proud of you. You must use brown sugar in your recipe too.”

Kiera’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise as she inquires, “How did you know that? I also put a vanilla bean in with the tapioca starch when I’m thickening it.”

I grinned at her as I winked. “Did I forget to tell you that I used to cook with my grandma all the time?” I reply with my tongue firmly in my cheek.

Kiera grins
back with a look of pure mischievousness, “Oh, did I forget to tell you? Guests that know how to cook are in charge of breakfast.”

I think this falls in the ‘be careful what you wish for territory’. Jeff is here. I mean really here. Like flesh and blood here, not in my imagination or dreams but feet from me
here
. As I just clumsily reminded everyone, he’s staying the night. For all of my talk of boldness and being bad, I really have no idea what I’m doing. Most of the time, I don’t really miss having a mom because my dad and I have such a unique relationship. However, I can see how a mom’s perspective might be helpful here.

The only female I can remember having around was Starla. She was a hard as nails trucker that frequently rode convoy with my dad, but because of her choice of wardrobe everyone called her Daisy
— as in Daisy Dukes. When I was in junior high school, she taught me how to put on makeup and do my hair. As long as I stopped a few notches short of her ideal, she actually taught me some solid techniques. Nonetheless, Daisy isn’t here either, so I’m on my own.

Jeff said he wouldn’t pressure me to do anything that I don’t want to do. The challenge is figuring out where the line is. I know when h
e is kissing me and touching me. I’m tempted to say “The hell with boundaries, let's get this show on the road.” But, I know if I don’t stay true to who I am; our relationship is going to suffer.

I feel like the world’s biggest tease. First, I invite him over to stay. Next, I practically hump him in the hot tub. If that wasn’t enough, I had a little mini orgasm while he was brushing my hair. He is not a stupid man. He kno
ws what effect he has on me. Most of the time I don’t even want to fight the forces of nature, but I also want to stay true to my values.
So, now what?

“Pip, are you okay in there?” Jeff calls when I fail to emerge from the bathroom within a reasonable timeframe, “Do you need help?”

“No,” I reply self-consciously, “I’m just pondering the great mysteries of the universe.”

Jeff simply asks, “Am I in your universe as you see it?”

“Yes, of course you are,” I hasten to reassure him.

“For now, that’s all I need to know,” Jeff responds.

I wash my hands and splash water on my face. It’s time to face the music. I leave the bathroom with a look of chagrin on my face. I look over to the couch to see that Jeff has set some heart shaped candles, snacks and a few movies on a tray. My heart melts a bit when I notice that it’s actual Boy Scout Caramel Corn. I quirk an eyebrow at him and grin. “Clever. You get bonus points for thinking outside the box.” I hold up the extremely rare bottles of root beer. “Ooh, more bonus points,” I praise.

Now
I’m even more curious to see his movie selection as it is becoming clear he has put a ton of thought into it. I laugh helplessly as I consider my choices--
While You Were Sleeping
,
Sweet Home Alabama
and
The Lucky One
. “You’ve made it impossible for me to choose. I love them all! I haven’t actually seen
The Lucky One
. I read the book though,” I explain as I examine the cover of each one as if I am going to divine some deeper life meaning from my choice.

Jeff stills my hands, “Pip, it’s fine.” We’ve got a lifetime to watch ‘em,” he expounds softly
. “I bought them for us. Just pick the one you want tonight, babe.”

“You
bought
them?” I ask, incredulous. “Just because I mentioned that they were my favorites?”

“Well, yes,” Jeff answers matter-of-factly, as if there were never a question
, “why wouldn’t I? After I move, I want you to be able to come over and feel comfortable. So, I figured having familiar things around will help.”

“What?” I exclaim, “You’re moving? Why?”

“My apartment is on the second floor and that won’t work for you,” he justifies. “So, Ty and I are going to sublet each other’s apartments until we can switch leases. I’m just waiting for my criminal background check to clear.”

“What?” I half screech
as I throw my hands up in the air “Jeff, you just met me a month ago. Now, you are just going to up and move?” I shake my head in disbelief.

“First, it’s no big deal,” he explains, “Ty is my best friend and we are really just swapping places. Secondly, I know this is hard to believe because of what just happened, but I really do mean until the stars fall from the sky.”

I struggle to catch my breath as I absorb the full impact of what he is saying. Tears well in the corner of my eyes. I start to wipe them away with the back of my hand, but Jeff beat me there, wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. “Does this mean you’ve decided?” I ask, my voice soft and shaking with trepidation.

Jeff situates himself so that he is looking directly in my eyes with searing intensity as he declares, “Yes, Pip. It does mean I’ve decided. I’m in. For better or worse, I’m in. All the way.”

Until that moment, I don’t think I realize how much I had invested in his decision. I collapse back onto the couch cushions, tears of relief streaming down my face.

A look of panic crosses
Jeff’s face. “Oh Pip, please don’t cry. You were right. I was stupid over stuff that wasn’t even real. It’s time I live my life for me on
my
terms and you are the most important part of those terms for me. Please say you’ll give me a lifetime to show you I mean it.”

I’m stunned into silence. I don’t really know what to think. Maybe this is another one of those situations where I’ve completely misconstrued everything and I just don’t realize it.
What if he meant something else entirely? What if he didn’t? Geez-O-Pete!
Hesitantly, I ask, “Did you mean to say all that? Because, sometimes I say stuff that I really mean to keep private. This could very well be li — “

My words are cut off as Jeff slants his mouth over mine for a deep, plundering kiss. “Pip,” he states in a deep voice, “It may not have been planned to the ‘nth degree and professionally choreographed, but the sentiments
are real. If you wanted to get on a plane to Vegas tonight, I’d be helping you pack.”

I try to remember all of the reasons it would be a terrible, awful, no-good plan. Surprisingly, my list is really short. It would kill my dad not to give me away and the Girlfriend Posse would disown me if they weren’t my maid of honors. “The idea actually has some merit, let’s not take it out of the rotation,” I respond.

“Was that an almost yes?” Jeff queries.

“Yes, I’m giving you
a quasi-yes to your quasi-proposal. If you want me to upgrade my answer, you’re going to have to upgrade the question, PC,” I answer, giving him an exaggerated kiss on his lips.

“Do you have any doubt I plan to do just that
, complete with bells and whistles? I am, after all, the quintessential Boy Scout,” Jeff responds. His words are light and flirtatious, but his tone leaves no question that he intends to follow through.

~*~

Why is my phone buzzing at the butt crack of dawn? Oh soufflé! I forgot. I’m on call. I dig my phone out of my pocket and realize I’m still curled up on Jeff’s chest. “This is Kiera. Can I help you?” I hear sniffles on the other end of the line. The hair on the back of my neck starts to stand on end.

“Miss Kiera?” I hear a weak voice say, “Did you really mean it when you said you’d be my friend no matter what?”

My heart shoots to my throat. “Yes, Mindy, I’ll always be your friend. How can I help?” I ask as calmly as I can because I know that if Mindy took the unusual step of reaching out, her situation must be very dire.

“Miss Kiera, I had to go. I runned away. But, the TB lied. They said I could ride the bus anywhere I wanted for a dollar. So, I saved two whole dollars and tooked Becca wiff me. But, then, they wouldn’t let us on the bus. It wasn’t fair! I had my two dollars. This
other guy said he woul’ take us. I figured it would be fine, ‘cause he had a kid’s seat. Miss Kiera, it was so yucky! He tried to kiss me! So, Becca and me runned again. Well, I runned; I had to carry Becca ‘cause she’s jus’ little,” Mindy finished explaining as she ran out of breath.

“Mindy, it sounds like you’re doing a great job keeping everybody safe. Where are you now?”

“I’m at the 7-11 by the big water fountain,” she says, “I’m sleepy and I can’t understand the formula can.”

“Formula can?” I ask in complete shock, “Why do you need formula? How old is Becca?”

“Becca’s three months old. Nana says that she was my mama’s dirty little secret because she is a whore. Nana was gonna burn Becca with a cigarette so that everyone would know,” Mindy explains.

Oh my God! I need to throw up. “Mindy, sweetheart? Is the clerk there with you?” I ask. I hear rustling on the other end of the phone.

“Hello? I’m Margret Ann, but you can call me Marge,” she says.

“Hi Marge, I’m Kiera Ashley from Juvenile Services. I am a trauma counselor,” I answer.

“Oh good,” she replies, relief evident in her voice. “These lil’ angels are sure gonna need it.”

“Can you please keep them still and occupied until I can get to them?” I request, in my most professional voice, “The girls can eat, but it would be best if the older one doesn’t touch anything until the CSI folks examine her hands. Just keep a tab, and I’ll pay it when I get there.”

“No need Mrs. Ashley. This one’s on the house. I think I may have the creep on surveillance too,” she replies helpfully.

“Great! Please don’t touch anything you don’t need to, talk to folks or post on social media,” I advise.

I can tell by the way she drew in her breath that my advice about social media might have come too late.

As I hang up the phone, I start to tremble, and sobs wrack my body. I grab the popcorn container as I start to heave. Jeff gathers me up and holds my hair out of the way. “What’s wrong? How can I help? Tell me what you need me to do,” Jeff demands.

“You can’t ‘do’ anything. I’m not even allowed to tell you what’s going on. We have to pretend nothing happened here tonight on so many levels,” I cry.

Jeff pulls me into a tight embrace as he practically growls
, “Screw my job. You are far more valuable to me than any job. I can get another job. I can’t find another you. What do you need me to do first?”

I swallow hard as I answer, “I need you to check to see if I have enough gas in the van while I shower and get dressed.”

As I get ready, I contemplate braiding my hair but decide that Jeff can do it a thousand times better, so I shrug and leave it down.

Jeff comes in from outside wiping his hands on a degreasing rag, “Kiera, the hand controls just work like levers, correct?” he asks.

I look up from my iPhone where I’m trying to build an interdisciplinary intervention team at 4:30 in the morning, “Yeah, why?” I ask, puzzled.

Jeff looks uncomfortable as he
explains, “I have sucky news, and then I have suckier news.”

I wheel over to him and hand him my brush. “I need it completely up please.” I request, as patiently a
s I can under the circumstances. “I put three hair bands on the handle of the brush if you need them. Lay the bad news on me. God knows, it really can’t get much worse.”
However, I do know it can get so much worse. It is what is so paralyzing about this case.
“If we missed this much the first time, do I routinely miss stuff?” I ask, feeling helpless and defeated.

“Babe, we can only work on the facts we have at the time. You have the best emotional sense of anyone I’ve ever met and you never know when God is working through you. There might be some grand plan you can’t see
. Next time you’ll do better because you’ll know what to spot,” I hug her in a loose embrace. “I hate to keep piling it on, but your sucky news is that it appears your alternator is out. The suckier news is that I didn’t bring Ty’s truck, so you have to ride in my rust bucket.” I explain.

“Oh, is that all? Here for a minute, I thought it might be something serious,” I declare, rolling my eyes. “I’ve got far bigger things to worry about right now.”