Chapter 10

10

JACK

I 've hardly ever bought a woman anything but a drink or dinner, but now I knew Serena's sizes. I learn the colors and fragrances she likes, teasing the information out of her with light touches, using a well-placed caress and the promise of my hot mouth on her nipple once she satisfies my curiosity on some mundane topic.

"The CIA missed their shot at you. You could make people tell you anything," she pants, annoyed.

"The CIA could never afford my services. Not to mention the fact that I don't torture information out of people most of the time. That's just a treat I save for you."

I take her for lobster the first night we go to dinner. She says it tastes sweet, and then she gives me a shy smile and kisses me right there at the table. It's hard to stay the length of time one would expect normal people to remain at a table instead of dragging her by the hand to the nearest exit. That night we make it as far as my car before we can't wait another second.

The next day, I try to impress her with concert tickets in a private box at the top of the stadium. Great views, but she's scared of heights and can't bear to look out the glass to see the stage below us. Lucky for me I find other ways to keep her happy.

I feed her oysters with champagne in the silky black dress I picked out for her myself. When my hand skims her strong calf beneath the table, I draw her feet into my lap. We kiss and touch at the restaurant, thankful for the secluded booth in the corner, the dim lighting, the discreet server. That night, we sit on my bed and watched a movie, something foul mouthed and funny. I love her laugh; love the way she looks over at me to make sure I am in on the joke.

The only problem is, unless I'm balls deep inside her, I'm completely distracted by wanting her. This obsession consumes me. From the arch of her foot to the way her hair curls at her temples, the smooth expanse of her stomach, her full soft hips and the plump sweetness of her pussy against my mouth.

Ronnie's off tonight after a recheck with his surgeon and I offer to fill in. I'm going to tell Serena to quit waiting tables. She can be our on-call nurse on staff instead of slinging drinks. She comes straight to my table and asks to talk with me.

I sweep her from head to toe with one look, take in the sweet flowered mini dress I bought her and how it barely covered the curve of her ass. I lead the way into the office and wait for her to strike, to tell me about someone being treated unfairly, something wrong in my business. I listen to her about that stuff even though I don't let anyone else talk to me that way. She has a purity about her, a directness when she talks. I lean against the edge of the desk.

"My dad won," she says, her voice ragged with shame. It's not good news. It means he's still gaming. The fact that he hit a streak of luck is meaningless with all that Joel Mayfield owes.

"How much?" I ask, forgetting my proposition.

I had wanted to make an offer—an office of her own where she could see patients as needed, make enough to pay off her dad's debtors and go back to school. Now I'm consumed by the defeated slope of her shoulders. I reach for her, and she walks right into my arms without hesitation. I kiss her temple.

"Five grand," she says. "Just enough to convince him he's on a roll, that he'll be caught up in a day or two."

"Is he missing work?"

"'Course he is. He says he's not. I don't know, Jack." She shakes her head, her forehead pressed to my chest.

"Let's get going. We've got a reservation," I say. "I think it'll cheer you up."

"No offense, but I don't think there's anything that could cheer me up tonight."

"Remember when you showed me all those TikToks you saved? The goat ones?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're going to goat yoga."

"What? No way. That's always during the day and it's a waste of money just for an experience—"

"Are you trying to talk me out of it? The woman who teaches it has four pygmy goats waiting for you in her studio. In pajamas."

"In pajamas?" she squeals. She practically jumps back from me, hands over her mouth, eyes sparkling. "I'm going to explode. That sounds like the cutest thing ever. I shouldn't, not with all my dad's debts and this new problem and the hours I need to work."

"If you get to be happy for an hour will that ruin everything?"

"I can't believe you did this. It's so thoughtful and sweet. Do it with me!"

"Anytime, anyplace. Except not in front of the goats. That makes it weird."

"I mean yoga. You'll love it," she giggles.

"There are some things I won't do even for you."

An hour and a half later I'm equal parts turned on and confused because I spent all that time watching Serena stretch and twist her supple body into a series of poses that made me horny as hell, but there were also tiny goats frolicking. She paused all the time to exclaim over them and scratch them between their ears.

There I was, watching her do downward dog the curve of her ass pushed toward me. I was with dying to put my mouth on her the whole time. Instead, I took pictures of her with small goats. When she was done and thanked the instructor, I took Serena out to the car.

"Tell the truth, is that not the most fun you've ever had?" she beams at me.

"No. But I'm glad you liked it. It's about the weirdest thing I've ever seen."

"Then thank you for suffering through it for me. I had a great time."

"I'm glad."

"Where should we eat?"

"I thought you might have worked up an appetite," I say.

"I really want one of those turkey sandwiches we got at the bodega. Do you care if we go get one?"

"Goat exercise and a grocery store sandwich. I've never met anyone like you, Serena Mayfield," I say with a grin.

She wants to eat on the same bench where we went before. We share a glass bottle of orange soda. She talks about which goat was which and what their names were. I watch her, listen to her, and I feel smitten. Like I'm completely gone for this woman. That makes her more dangerous than any foe I've ever faced.

"When you make your fortune as a nurse, are you going to buy a bunch of goats?"

"Probably not. Nurses don't work regular hours most of the time, and the goats would need outdoor space and a lot of attention."

"The fact that you've given this a lot of thought concerns me.".

"I think I'd be so relieved to finish my LPN, maybe even get my RN, that I don't even let myself imagine a whole life with pets and friends and… a lover," she says it shyly, looks away from me. I gather her hands in mine.

"Serena," I say. "You have a lover."

"Is that what you are? What this is? I miss you when we're not together, and I never thought I could be so happy—and that was before you surprised me with goats."

"We're not keeping the goats," I remind her.

"It was enough to play with them and see them up close. I never imagined this was possible. To fall for you so hard, to fall for you at all. Tell me it's not in my imagination, because I worry about that sometimes."

I tip her chin up with my fingers and catch her lips with mine.

"Tell me this isn't real," I say into her mouth. Tenderness and lust war for supremacy. I work her lips apart and dip my tongue into her mouth, stroking and tasting her. She melts into my arms. I murmur something about taking her home. I think I wouldn't mind doing this until my heart gives out, but I don't say the words. It's too early for that, and I've never said them to anyone before.