For the Roses

She waited for him, her nerves and anxiety loudly jangling inside her like meth-addicted cowbells in a dance-off.

  It was nice to see she still felt attracted to him, though, when he climbed out of his car. He moved a little slowly, at first. Like he was in pain or something. He looked sharp, pressed dress slacks, loafers, and a button-up long-sleeved shirt with a tie.

  Damn.

  Her heart—and other places—fluttered with pleasure at the sight of him.

  She waited for him to walk over to her and she accepted the offered hug.

  “Thanks for seeing me again tonight,” he said.

  “I’ve been looking forward to it.”

  He even opened and held the door for her, and before long, they were seated in a booth and perusing menus. She didn’t miss how nearly every woman in the joint—and more than a few of the men—cast appreciative glances at Wynn as they made their way to their table.

  “Apparently,” he said once they were seated and alone, “Jackson took an informal poll.” He smiled. “I was concerned about us knowing each other before, but with the circumstances being what they are, it’s been deemed ‘not creepy.’”

  The smile he wore couldn’t be denied a reply. “Honestly? I think I got past that last night. They’re right that it’s been more than a whole lifetime since then. For me, anyway.”

  Thick and curvy.

  Which she…wasn’t.

  She sucked in a breath, ready to tackle it head-on when the waitress reappeared to take their drink orders and Meredith chickened out.

  “I think a lot of it has to do with I barely recognized you,” she admitted. “We’re both totally different people now.”

  “I hope you can be patient with me.”

  She frowned. “With you?”

  “I’m new to all of this. You know a lot more about it than I do. Have a lot more experience. I hope I don’t bore you as a Top.”

  “Oh. No, that hasn’t even crossed my mind.”

  Chicken.

  “Eliza told me that, in BDSM, it’s preferable to admit you don’t know something and ask a lot of questions.”

  She nodded. “She’s right.”

  Bok.

  “I’ve been scared to do this before now. I was worried about my job.” He laughed. “I didn’t know I was surrounded by kinky people.”

  “We’re everywhere.”

  Bok bok.

  “So Ron’s into the lifestyle, too?”

  “Yeah. He and I don’t discuss…details, though. I mean, we love each other but there’s a…boundary, I guess? Comfort zone? Relationships, that’s different. We’ll talk to each other about that, but the specifics we avoid.”

  “Ah. It’s good the two of you are so close.”

  “Yeah. What about you?”

  His smile looked forced. “Estranged from most of my family. They live out of state. Illinois. Ironically, I’m closer to my ex’s family than my own.”

  “You are?”

  “Yeah. She lives up in Georgia, and has ever since she left me. They weren’t happy with her for how she left me, either. I guess I unofficially got custody of them in the divorce.” His playful smirk made her want to shove all doubts aside and jump into this head-first…

  But that wasn’t smart.

  And she was stalling.

  Before she could bring up the topic, the waitress returned with their beverages and to take their orders…and Meredith’s courage fled. “That’s good that you’re close to them, I guess,” she said once they were alone again.

  He slowly nodded. “They saved my life.” He let out a sigh. “And I’m not even exaggerating.”

  “Saved your life?”

  “After my accident.” He slowly nodded. “You’re lucky to have a brother you’re so close to. You have no idea how lucky.”

  “Believe me,” she said, “I know.”

  Chapter Ten

  From the moment he arrived, Elvin sensed a slight…distance in Meri that hadn’t been present last night. As their dinner continued, the feeling grew stronger in him. Like she was hiding something.

  But she wasn’t saying anything.

  Maybe I’m wrong.

  He gently steered them away from discussing his adopted family and they discussed kink. He learned a lot from her just through their discussion, fine nuances of play he hadn’t thought about before.

  They were nearly through eating when he finally spoke up. “Would you be interested in meeting me at Venture to play at some point in the future?”

  Meredith grimly smiled, and it flashed through Elvin’s mind that he had a feeling he was going to wish he hadn’t asked. “I’m not sure I’m going to be a very fun play partner at the club,” she said, her tone now sounding subdued.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because…I don’t play nude in public.”

  “I thought you said you used to?”

  “I did.”

  She didn’t elaborate.

  “Is it because I was your teacher?”

  “No, that’s not it at all.”

  He had to ask it, to put it out on the table, this uncomfortable, awkward undertone he’d sensed all evening between them. “Is it because I’m black?”

  Her eyes widened. “What? No! Of course not!”

  “Then please tell me what’s going on. I’m not a mind reader, and I’ve felt some sort of discomfort from you all evening.”

  She looked like she was still trying to recover from his comment. “Because I’m self-conscious, okay?” She crossed her arms over her chest, and her tone grew low, defensive. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed a distinct difference in me from when I was in high school. Physical difference.”

  “Uh, I never have looked at students like that, sorry. That’s just…creepy.”

  “Then maybe you’ve noticed a difference comparing me to other women.” Now she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  He felt more than confused—he felt totally lost. “Look, can we back up? Because I feel like I missed something vital.”

  She stared at him for a long, silent moment that he refused to disturb before her gaze dropped, as did her voice.

  “I had a double mastectomy.” She now spoke so quietly he could barely hear her, and was hugging herself. “I found out when my cancer was diagnosed that I also have the gene for it, and had to fight my insurance company to do it even though my doctor insisted it was necessary because of that and my family history. Still, they didn’t want to pay for all of it. All they wanted to pay for was a lumpectomy. Had a massive battle on my hands with appeals and stuff, just the kind of stress I didn’t need on top of everything else I was going through.

  “I ran through my savings and retirement with the surgery and treatments. Then, because of how the surgeon had to do it, he couldn’t do the reconstruction at the same time. I needed to heal from that, go through treatments to make sure they didn’t miss anything, before I could have the reconstruction. I went from a DD cup down to an A. With losing my job, and not being able to work, it literally broke me. I couldn’t afford to pay for insurance anymore, much less a reconstruction. Not when I didn’t have a job and I still had bills to pay.”

  It felt like the breath had been yanked from his lungs. “Meri…I-I’m so sorry, honey.”

  “Yeah, well…not like my whole self-image was tied up in who I thought I was because of my body.” Her tone dripped venom he understood all too well wasn’t directed at him in particular, just at life’s follies—and more than a little at herself. “I didn’t realize that until…after. I never thought I was one of those kinds of women to whom body image was everything.”

  She sniffled. “Turns out I was. Not like I didn’t get really popular between my sophomore and junior years in high school, finally, because my boobs grew huge over the summer. Not like my last Dominant and boyfriend dumped me literally the morning he brought me home from the hospital after my surgery. Thank god for Ron flying out. Peter told me when he broke up with me that morning that he was
sorry, but he wasn’t attracted to me anymore, and didn’t want to lie to me. One of his favorite things was tying me up, especially my breasts, and doing breast and nipple torture.”

  A harsh laugh escaped her. “No breasts, no nipples. Did me a favor, he said, because he didn’t want to be a dick and dump me right before the surgery, or immediately after, when I was still in the hospital. Son of a bitch didn’t even bother to so much as buy me a get well card or anything. You’d think some ‘sorry I don’t want you anymore’ flowers at the very least.”

  “Asshole,” he muttered.

  He didn’t realize he’d said it aloud, until she finally glanced his way.

  “My own fault. He wasn’t very romantic, even in the beginning, and that should have been a clue. No flowers, no cards, always worried about appearances, his and mine. I was with him for three years, and looking back…well, let’s just say I should have been choosier. Hindsight and all that bullshit. I can see the red flags now, but I didn’t then.

  “I’m not looking for sympathy, either. Bad genes, literally. I’m lucky they caught it early and found out I had the gene so I could get the surgery. After they found the first spot, they did a more detailed scan and found one in my other breast. I felt sort of shitty last October. It was Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and here are all these women and even men out marching in cancer walks, and all I wanted to do was hide from the world. I had blouses and dresses that didn’t fit me right anymore. Only benefit was I could finally go around without a bra, if I wanted.”

  Her expression darkened again. “Not like I had ones that fit me anymore, at first. Oh, and reducing my risk of dying of cancer, I guess.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m superficial after all, but I lost my fucking job, couldn’t find another one, found out I had cancer, lost my boyfriend and Dom, went broke and had to sell my condo and move in with my little brother—which meant he had to rescue me, again—it was like the world wasn’t happy merely kicking me when I was down, it had to shit on me in the process.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand, not prying her arms apart, just holding her fingers, his thumb stroking her knuckles. “We don’t have to play at the club. We’ll only play when and where you want.”

  “That’s not very fair to you.”

  “That’s for me to decide.”

  “Yeah, but this is your dream, and you’re seeing…me.”

  “So? My dream is to finally have a partner who can meet me in the middle and who isn’t turned off by me and my needs. My dream isn’t playing in a dungeon. Is that something I’d like us to maybe work toward? Sure, but if we don’t it’s not even close to a deal-breaker for me.”

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to play with someone else.”

  “Okay, can we stop with you trying to guess what I want? Because, I gotta tell you, you suck at it so far.” He hoped his smile would clue her in that he was trying to lighten the mood a little.

  Apparently, it did, because the outer edges of her lips faintly curled upward. “Peter told me I could be pushy, too.”

  “Well, lucky for me, I like pushy women.” He gently squeezed her fingers. “I want a doormat, I’ll go to the store and buy me one.”

  Her smile widened.

  “Is this why you’ve been freaking out tonight?” he asked. “You’ve been worried about how I’d react?”

  “Yeah. Kinda.”

  “Only kinda?”

  When she chewed on her bottom lip, she looked absolutely fricking adorable. “A lot.” Another sigh. “Mostly.”

  Relief filled him. “I can understand that.”

  “Especially when I heard you and Grant and Darryl talking last night, and I caught the tail-end of you telling them you had a thing for ‘thick and curvy’ girls.”

  Now he felt like shit that he’d caused her that kind of anguish. “That’s in general, and again, not a deal-breaker.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m attracted to you, aren’t I?”

  “Are you?” He felt her brittle, fragile shell, the one she was trying to hastily construct around her heart to protect herself.

  “I’m here, talking to you, right now,” he gently said. “That should tell you something.”

  She glanced down again. She hadn’t unwrapped her arms from around herself, and he felt…helpless.

  He laid his hand over hers, persistent, determined to show her he wasn’t trying to play her and couldn’t be scared off that easily. “I’m not exactly a stranger to medical issues and life-changing scars.”

  “No?”

  “I was in a car wreck six years ago, right before the end of the school year. Guy on his phone crossed the yellow line and hit me head-on. Got busted up pretty bad. I’ve got more than a few scars of my own.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Like you care about scars.”

  “Yeah, I did. Used to.” He pulled out his phone and showed her the before-the-accident picture. “That was me just a couple of weeks before it happened.”

  “Holy crap, you were still skinny.”

  “Yeah. I was damn lucky I liked to run, I guess. Was in really good shape in that way, at least. Couldn’t do that after my accident, though. Not at first. I was in a coma for two weeks. Couldn’t even walk. Was in the hospital for nearly a month. Couldn’t get around without a wheelchair for a while. So damn weak I couldn’t even open a stupid water bottle by myself.”

  He showed her the picture of him in the hospital two weeks after the wreck, when he came out of the coma. “That’s what I meant about Momma and Albert and Sondra saving my life. I couldn’t take care of myself, at first. They stepped in and took care of me when my own family couldn’t even be bothered to help out.”

  “Looks like you recovered pretty well.”

  “In most ways. Took a long damn time. I ended up taking my PT to a serious level. I made it back to school in the fall, but I was still using a wheelchair, at first, because I wasn’t supposed to put weight and strain on my pelvis by walking much or standing all day. I asked one of the coaches at the school to help me out, because hell, I was there all day at school, and I knew he was a personal trainer. He had me start with hand weights and swimming. That I could do. Arm machines.

  “Once I was cleared to walk again, he had me start out on legs. I wasn’t supposed to do high-impact workouts at first. No running, no elliptical, nothing like that. So…machines. Lots of reps at lower weights. Pull-ups, leg presses. Building muscles. Realized I was starting to bulk up a little. Pants that were hanging off me even before my accident, I could barely fit in anymore, and not because of fat. Shirts, too. Started getting different kinds of looks than I had before the accident. Good and…maybe a little intimidated, depending if it was a woman or a man looking at me.”

  He tapped his temple. “But that skinny, unpopular, bookworm geek from high school was still in my brain, right? Couldn’t believe a good-looking woman would want to go out with me. Would think maybe she was just mind-fucking me. Keisha had left and divorced me after telling me about all my failings as a man, and I’d loved the hell out of her. Except she’d proved every damn self-doubt about myself was right. Wasn’t sure how to put myself out there again, even so many years after my divorce.”

  “What changed?”

  “This is gonna sound stupid, but Fifty Shades of Black.”

  “Don’t you mean Grey?”

  He snorted. “No, Black. Was at a friend’s house one night for dinner and to watch a game. His wife and her friends were howling with laughter in her bedroom, and I went back to check it out. They were watching it. I ended up watching the movie with them instead of the game. It’s a spoof of the series, but I went home and bought it digitally from Amazon and watched it from the beginning. There was shit in there that was hysterical they all missed because they weren’t in on it, besides the obvious stuff.

  “Yeah, it was goofy as fuck, but there was a thread of truth in it and it hit my fantasies. Started researching the real stuff. But I was still
working for the county school system then. I was only a couple of years from retirement, and I still needed my insurance. No way would I have risked getting out with the lifestyle locals back then. I still have pain days now, but back then, I was in pain more days than not. A good day was one I didn’t need to start the morning stretching for twenty minutes when I got out of bed, and could settle for taking ibuprofen to function.”

  “And the bad?”

  “I weaned myself off prescription painkillers a couple of years ago. I was starting to have trouble with them.”

  “But…you said you drink on occasion.”

  “I know. I don’t have a problem with alcohol. I was developing a tolerance to the medicine. They’d stopped working and I didn’t want to keep jacking the dosage up and land in a bad place. I’m no hero. When we have a weather front come through, everything aches like a motherfucker, and I’m the first to admit I’m a real cranky sonofabitch when I’m in the bad kind of pain. Which is one reason I’m still alone. I can be a miserable bastard. Last three girlfriends, who I obviously didn’t know before I’d had my accident, thought I was exaggerating and just being a dick.”

  “I can understand that. The pain making you miserable, I mean.” She scowled. “I think now most of my pain is the mental kind. My surgery pain is mostly gone.”

  “And you asked me why I would retire and change jobs when Sorrellson was paying me just a little more than the county? Because they have one important perk I couldn’t get from the county.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They allow their teachers to use medical marijuana. I have to have it on file with them, I have to get a mandatory drug test monthly to make sure I’m not taking things that aren’t disclosed, and I’m not allowed to drive students anywhere. But now when I have those really bad pain days, I can use my vape pen and take the edge off.

  “I don’t apologize for it, either. It’s easier on my body than the oral meds I was taking with far fewer side effects. I might only need it one day in a month, or I might need it daily for two solid weeks. It helps me function on the worst days and keeps me off harder stuff that could suck me into a full-blown addiction. And it helps me cut back on over-the-counter stuff that might rot my liver. I know you said drugs were a hard limit for you, so I’ll understand if you want to change your mind about me now.”