|
![]()
Chapter Six
Dan burst out laughing when his uncle returned looking dazed. “Get you some?” he asked with a wicked grin. Regan smacked Dan’s head lightly. “No. Unlike some men in this family, I keep my fly zipped.” Dan chuckled. “Give her a few more dates. I saw those hips. Uncle Bill, you’re a better man than I am.” Regan rolled his eyes. “Just don’t name your escapades after me, all right?” Dan grinned. “No fears, I am the poster child for safer sex.” “Uh huh.” “So when are you seeing her again?” “Tomorrow night, for dinner.” “Excellent,” Dan grinned. “No plaid.” *** Regan nervously followed the maitre d to the table. His natural shyness was turning into paranoia as he sat at the small table, waiting for Ayla. Positive people were staring at him, he took a sip of his water, his emerald eyes once again going to the entrance. At least he was dressed properly, thanks to his nephew. His slacks were pressed and went well with his dark blazer and shirt. Dan seemed to know the restaurant and flat out refused to let his uncle wear jeans. Regan looked up and his breath caught. There she was, talking to the maitre d’, giving him her pretty smile. She wore a simple sundress in silvery blue, which highlighted her golden hair and showed off her curves. Seeing him, she gave him a broad smile and hurried to join him. Regan stood to hold her chair out for him. “Sorry I’m late,” she brushed her lips against his cheek. “I should have warned you I’m never on time, no matter how hard I try.” “It’s all right,” he smiled down at her. They sat down and Regan was grateful there was soft violin music playing, this was awkward enough without stilted small talk Ayla smiled at him, unsure of what to say now. “Come here often?” she asked cheekily. Regan laughed. “Never.” “It’s not quite as pretentious as it seems,” she giggled. “And everything I’ve had here is pretty good.” “I trust you,” he said mildly. “I don’t go out much.” “I go out too much,” she grimaced. “I warn you now, I have terrible eating habits.” “Are you one of those girls who orders a big salad and doesn’t eat it?” Ayla started to answer and hesitated, which made him smile. “Don’t be,” he said gently. “I can appreciate a woman who enjoys her food much more than one who starves herself to fit a society forced image.” Ayla looked at him, surprised. “You don’t strike me as the type of man to pay attention to such things.” “Because I spend all day with horses?” he asked, amused. Ayla laughed. “Yeah. Unfair assumption, I realize.” After that, the comfort level rose considerably, and Regan found his shyness slipping away. He found out she loved sweets, and kept a stock of cake mix for cupcakes. She babbled when she was nervous and she had trouble sitting still, twirling her fork around her fingers when not using it to eat. What really amused him was she had no clue she was doing it. After dinner they returned to her apartment under the guise of watching a movie, as Ayla didn’t like movie theatres. But Regan wasn’t surprised when she started kissing him, and soon were tangled on the couch, the intensity between them bubbling and his hands began to caress her. Regan finally broke away from her, staring into her gray blue eyes. “I know,” she said dryly. “Take it slow.” Regan smiled, running his hand through her long hair. “Why does that bother you?” he asked softly. Ayla looked away for a minute, debating on her answer. Finally she met his gave evenly as she said, “Because I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone else. And I’m not used to guys wanting me back as much as you seem to.” Regan was baffled. “Not wanting you back? What?” Ayla smiled sadly as she leaned back against the couch, but her body was still wrapped up in his, and she laid her head against his broad chest. “It’s not quite that simple, Regan. The world I was forced into, when Daddy made all that money, it’s not a nice world. The girls are cruel, the boys, shallow, and everyone is out to gain what they can, at any expense. You’re not accepted unless you’re five foot six and a hundred pounds. I couldn’t do anything about the height, so I tried to control the weight, and it never quite worked. I could never get down to where I wanted to be, and I can’t stand to throw up, so bulimia was out. And I couldn’t stop eating sweets. Especially the cupcakes. Even now. Food was my companion, and the bane of my existence. And the other girls let me know it. In that subtle, snarky way that they’re bred with, to think they’re better than everyone else and if you don’t conform to their crap, you’re treated like the redheaded stepchild.” Regan touched her face gently, hating the pain in her eyes as she looked up at him. “My father’s position demands that I play nice with them, go to their stupid lunches, and play their damn games,” her eyes suddenly looked glassy. “My first boyfriend was one of them, good looking, rich, charming. We dated for a few weeks, and I was dumb enough to think that he really cared about me. Of course he just wanted my virginity and he dumped me the next day. Told everyone in our ‘circle’ how easy I was. I didn’t know this until after about seven guys suddenly asked me out. After that, there were a couple guys in college, but it seemed they were all the same. Date for a while, then they’d lose interest as soon as we had sex. So, I stopped dating, except for the most casual of dates and that was just to stop rumors of me being a lesbian.” Ayla bit her lower lip. “Then you came along.” Regan raised one ginger eyebrow. “Me?” “Yeah you. You in old jeans, and your plaid shirts, and I just-never saw a guy who looked so sexy in plaid,” she laughed suddenly. Regan felt his face turning red. “My nephew insisted I not wear plaid, that it’s uncool.” Ayla giggled, leaned forward and kissed Regan lightly. “Oh no, I think it’s very sexy.” “I’ll be sure to wear more of it,” he chuckled. “You don’t look right in this,” she indicated his dress shirt, and ran her hand down his arm. “You look good, but you don’t look right. You look right in those old worn boots of yours, and flannel.”
Regan laughed. “Yes ma’am. Duly noted.” With a wicked grin, Ayla leaned forward and kissed him again, gently slipping her tongue into his mouth, to which he answered readily, wrapping his strong arms around her and pulling her down onto him, his hands on her back. “They were idiots,” he murmured, finally breaking the embrace. He was stunned to see tears shimmering in her eyes. “Says you,” she pulled away awkwardly, sitting up. Regan sat up as well, his emerald eyes focused on her. “Ayla, I’m not like those guys. I’m thirty years old, and I’ve spent most of my adult life dodging relationships. I don’t play those kinds of games, because I think it’s wrong. If I get involved with someone it’s because I like who they are, not what I can get from them. And I happen to like you,” he said softly. “A lot.” Ayla smiled at him. “I like you too, Regan.” “So . . . now that we’re liking each other, what happens?” Regan asked. With a sweet smile, Ayla curled up against him, resting her head on his chest as she snuggled her curvy body against his. Regan smiled. *** She was at the stables the next morning, to start her second round of lessons. There was no rush this time, and Regan enjoyed watching her shapely figure as she rode Ivory around the corral. “What do you do when you’re not suffering social lunches?” Regan asked, as they strolled Jupiter and Ivory through the preserve. “I volunteer at the Humane Society in White Plains,” she answered surprising him. “I don’t need the money but they need volunteers and I love dogs, so I volunteer four or five days a week. I primarily work with the dogs, but sometimes I go and talk to the cats too.” Regan was impressed. So much for the thought he had of her doing nothing all day. “Is that depressing?” he asked. “It can be,” she answered. “We’re a no-kill, but other shelters aren’t so lucky. We’re always full because of the no-kill status. I always want to take them home, and it’s tough because I get close to them, and then someone finally comes and adopts them. We’re lucky we have a fairly fast throughput rate, meaning they get adopted quickly.” “Could you have a pet in your apartment?” Ayla made a snorting sound. “They’ll allow cats. But I want a dog. A big one. I would love to buy a house somewhere in the woods with room for a dog to run.” Regan looked at her in admiration. “Dogs are big responsibility, you know,” he teased. “No sleeping in late!” Ayla laughed. “I don’t sleep that late,” she said, “but I don’t go to bed until late. You’re an early riser, aren’t you?” “Guilty,” Regan grinned. “But I like it. The world is the most peaceful early in the morning. Just me and my coffee, and the horses, and they don’t say much.” “I always hear one neighbor playing Pavarotti about eight am. Some cantankerous old man who enjoys interrupting my sleep,” she grumbled. “But he’s older than dirt and for some reason gets to break all the rules.” Regan chuckled. “One advantage to being out here, it’s pretty quiet. With the Bob Whites gone, there aren’t too many parties going on. The Beldens keep it pretty quiet down there, unless Bobby and the Lynch twins are on the loose.” Ayla could hear the wistfulness in his voice. Regan missed the kids; it was obvious. “Do you want kids someday?” she asked shyly. “As much as you miss them?” “Yeah,” he admitted, “But I think I’m kind of getting beyond the age of marrying,” he chuckled again, “and I couldn’t move far from here. I love these horses, and this land. This is a dream job.” “You’re such an old man,” she teased, secretly wondering what their children might look like. Would they have his eyes or hers? Red hair or blonde? Somewhere in between? “Tell me more about the shelter,” he encouraged. Ayla laughed, a slight blush creeping up her pretty face. “I go home and shower before I come here so I don’t smell like a kennel,” she admitted. Regan burst out laughing. “Dan insisted I shower before I go over to your place, so I don’t smell like a horse.” “I never noticed,” she giggled. “Me neither,” he admitted. They were approaching an old cabin, with a trail of smoke coming out the chimney. “Someone lives there?” she asked. “My friend Maypenny. He’s the gamekeeper. Dan lived with him and helped him out, and when he’s here on the weekends, still patrols a bit. But Maypenny’s getting up in years, though he’d never admit it,” Regan smiled. “Matt had to hire a part time gamekeeper, because the stables keep me too busy to help, especially once we expanded into lessons a couple years ago and Matt wants me to be his partner in it. Which would also mean more horses.” Ayla admired both Regan and the preserve as it was blossoming. Shades of green ranged from light to dark, spotted with brightly colored wild flowers. There was activity in the trees up above them, birds calling to each other. Squirrels scampered up trees. They rode back toward the school slowly. Regan loved the way the sun bounced off her golden hair. She was more comfortable now in the saddle, and that pleased him. She sat tall, and he had noticed she didn’t slouch to hide her height to begin with. As they cleaned the tack, Regan reached over to correct her strokes, and she looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. Before he could stop her she was pulling him off balance and they tumbled to the floor, their lips madly trying catch each other. Wrapping his arms around her he rolled her onto her back for a long kiss. “You crazy girl,” he laughed, finally sitting up. Grinning, Ayla sat up, brushing the dirt from her hair. “Couldn’t help it. You looked so cute there, trying to correct me.” Regan grinned and got to his feet, pulling her up and dusting her off. Ayla wished his hands would stay on her longer and in other places. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked later, brushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes. “I’m supposed to have dinner with friends,” she said in a flat tone. “Want to join us?” “No,” he said quickly. “I mean, it’s really, not, you know, my kinda crowd.” Ayla laughed and gave him a coy smile. “Mine neither. But should I have a better offer, I’d be most willing to reschedule them.” “Yeah?” he grinned down at her. “Such as?” “Such as a really sexy redheaded man wanting to cook me dinner,” she smiled up at him as she slid her arms around his waist.
“I can find you a redhead, but as far as being sexy and able to cook, that’s debatable.” Ayla squeezed him around the waist. “Pizza and beer are fine.” “It’s uh, well I usually watch wrestling but I can skip it,” he conceded when she wrinkled up her nose. He wanted to be with her anyway. “I won’t torment you with chick flicks, I promise,” she kissed him once and he didn’t let her escape, slowly deepening the kiss until she was leaning into him and he was on fire. When she was gone, Regan ran his hand through his short hair. Good thing she liked pizza, he thought, because he hadn’t grocery shopped in a few days. Then he grinned. Picking up the phone in his office, he dialed Crabapple Farm.
Author’s Notes
- Many thanks to Kate and Robin for editing. I don’t always listen, so any mistakes are mine!
- Word Count 2,405
|