Chapter Nine
While Tristan swept up the dog kibble scattered on the kitchen floor, he found the lost button to Joy’s pants and dropped it in a shot glass on the counter for safekeeping. Luckily one of the pups hadn’t discovered it first. Then he debated throwing her abandoned clothes in the washing machine but didn’t want to destroy her stuff, so he put them in the spare room on the bed she could have claimed.
If she lived ten minutes away, plus another fifteen to stop at the mini-mart, it shouldn’t have taken longer than thirty minutes to get home. But an hour crept by, so where was the phone call? Was it too early to worry? He had a flashback to the last time she’d left his place, promising to call and never did. But this time was different—he had her dog as collateral.
At least the pooches were comfy, sharing a blanket on the floor in the corner while Tristan paced, checking the signal on his cellphone every few seconds to make sure it worked.
Finally it rang in his hand and he fumbled with the button on the screen. “Joy?”
“Tristan.” Her voice trembled as if torn between tears and trauma.
The reception was terrible and he worried he’d lose the call. “You okay?” He pressed the phone to his ear to hear her better.
“I-I’m fine.”
“Where are you?” By the sound of the honking horns it was obvious she wasn’t home.
“I was pulling out of the mini-mart and some guy ran the stop sign—”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”
He grabbed his jacket and keys as he sprinted out the front door. With his Camaro still in need of an engine part, he hopped on the Harley, strapped the helmet under his chin, and rumbled down the road.
When he spotted Joy’s crumpled sports car on Main Street, his heart froze.
Then he remembered: She’s okay. She’d called. She’s alive. Although by the damage to the passenger side, anyone in the death seat would’ve wound up in her lap. The vehicle that T-boned her was a jacked up monster truck that looked like it could’ve swallowed the little Jag like a pill. If he had to guess, the driver was the extra-large dude smoking a cigarette, talking to the EMTs, while Joy sat alone, shivering under the bright streetlight, her angelic face as pale as her pearl white car.
When she saw Tristan, she leaped into his arms.
“Hey, sunshine.” For her sake, he did his damnedest to appear calm even though his pounding heart was ready to burst. “You hurt?” On quick inspection, she was the perfect specimen of health until he spotted blood trickling from one corner of her mouth. Examining her skull with gentle fingertips, she winced once he discovered a lump above her left ear. “Geez. That’s some knot you got. How do you feel?”
“Okay, I guess. I’m still alive. Just shaken up.”
“Yo. Fellas,” he hollered to the EMTs. “The lady’s bleedin’ over here.”
“I told them I’m fine. Can you believe the air bag didn’t work?” She exhaled a humorless, nervous laugh. “What a hunk of junk. I wouldn’t be surprised if Victor rigged it, hoping to get rid of me. I knew I should’ve traded it for a mini-van.”
“You’re not fine, Joy.” He zoned in on the spot hidden by her thick hair; his thumb and forefinger circled the area.
Joy flinched from the smallest pressure. “Please, Tristan. It’s just a bump.”
“Just a bump?” Scrutinizing her vehicle, it was impossible to miss the shattered driver’s side window. On the verge of losing his cool, he lifted her chin with an unintentional rough touch, checking her pupils. “You broke the glass. With your head. Do you have a concussion?”
“No.”
“How do you know? Are you a doctor?”
She shook her head, as helpless and confused as she’d been on St. Patrick’s Day, only it was worse to see her in such a state because she hadn’t been drinking.
“Are you nauseous? Dizzy?”
“No. I just wanna go home.” She sat on the curb, hugging herself, with Tristan’s arm around her for extra security.
“Did you call your folks?”
“No. Just you,” she said weakly, boosting his ego.
“What’s the number? I’ll let ’em know you’re okay.” He reached for the cell phone in his breast pocket.
“No.” Before he could get it out, Joy slapped his hand. “I’ve driven them crazy since I’ve been here. This’ll just upset them even more. I’ll tell ’em in person, when I get home.”
While the tow truck carted away her mangled vehicle, the EMTs checked on Joy again at Tristan’s insistence. Without going to the hospital for a CT scan, they couldn’t confirm if she suffered a mild concussion, but she refused to get in the ambulance.
“Victor’s gonna kill me,” she repeated, more worried about the car than her health.
Tristan was tired of hearing her lousy ex-husband’s name. “Accidents happen. Insurance’ll cover it.”
“He’s not gonna be happy when he finds out it’s totaled. That’s a dealer car.” Joy buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I left my duffle bag in the backseat. It has all my—everything.”
“Don’t worry. Things can be replaced.” Tristan glanced at the white clouds streaking the midnight sky and gave God a mental high-five for sparing this woman’s precious life.
Her sobs were almost inaudible over the din from the thin traffic at this late hour, until she gasped for air, trying to steady her breath. He would’ve sat on the concrete slab with her until sunrise, counting cars speeding by until she was done, but she was exhausted, injured, and could use some TLC.
Finally he tugged her by the hand to help her up. “Come on.”
She pulled away, whining, “I told you I don’t wanna go to the hospital,” as stubborn as his toddler.
“We’re not. I promise.” He put his only helmet on her pretty little head, careful of her injury. “We’re going home.”
“Let’s just sit here a little longer. Please. I’m not ready to face my folks yet.”
“I mean my place.”
“Oh.” A fragile half-smile cracked her childish frowny-face. “Okay, I guess.”
Tristan straddled the Harley, started the engine, and put up the kickstand. “Ready?”
With a sigh, Joy slipped the long strap of her bulky purse over her head, across her body for safekeeping, then climbed behind him. She locked her arms around his waist as they rolled away.
When they arrived at his place, she was antsy, and Tristan realized getting her here was the easy part. Convincing her stay the night would take some sweet persuasion.
“Are you worried about your dad having to drink his coffee black in the morning?”
“I’ll call my cousin, just to let someone know what happened. I’ll ask if he can pick up the half-and-half.” She plopped her purse on the coffee table, dug through to find her cellphone, and curled up on the couch.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I already came clean to him about you, minus the specifics.”
After apologizing to Bruno for waking him at midnight, she spilled the quick and dirty version of the collision. “If they ask where I am, just tell them I’m sleeping at a friend’s. I’ll tell them what happened when I get home,” Joy whispered before hanging up.
However sleep was the last thing Tristan would let Joy do with a possible concussion. Instead he made a fresh pot of coffee and lured her to the kitchen with the cheese Danish he’d picked up at the bakery that afternoon, intended for dessert before their date was cut short.
“I can barely keep my eyes open, never mind eat.” Joy yawned then dropped her head on the breakfast bar.
“That’s just too bad, now isn’t it.” He filled two mugs and pushed one in front of Joy. He gulped from the steaming cup, equally as exhausted, yet determined to stay awake for her safety’s sake.
“Why are you being so mean?”
“You didn’t want to go to the hospital when you had the opportunity. I won’t risk you not waking up by letting you sleep.”
“What’re you talking about? Nothing’s wrong with me.”
Frustrated by her defiance, he slapped the marble countertop on his way to the freezer for an ice pack. “If you fall asleep with a concussion you could slip into a coma.”
“That’s a myth, ya know.” Joy grimaced at the cold pressure from a rock-solid package of peas.
“Whether it is or not, I’m not chancin’ it.”
“Well, I am.” She smashed the bag on the counter, pushed the coffee aside. “I gotta lay down before I fall down.” She slid off the stool and Tristan caught her elbow, keeping her in place.
“You cracked a window with your head. That’s a traumatic injury. God forbid you really don’t wake up—” He shook her for effect, careful not to add to the damage. “What am I gonna tell your parents? What about your kids?” If he didn’t want to make love to her as much as he did, he could’ve throttled her for arguing with him for trying to do the right thing.
“My kids…” Joy rolled her eyes and snickered. “Like they’d care.”
“What’s wrong with you? Don’t say that.”
“Well, it’s true.” She diverted her glassy green gaze toward the kitchen window.
With a firm grip under her chin, Tristan tilted Joy’s face upward, giving her nowhere else to look but into his eyes. “They’re young. They don’t know any better.” Especially if their father’s the mean-spirited jerk she described.
She shrugged. “They are young, but that’s when a kid needs their mother, right? If they don’t need me now, they never will.” A sprinkle of tears turned into full-blown waterworks.
When he softened his grip to get her a tissue, she bolted from his arm. He sprinted behind her to the living room where she dove facedown on the couch.
“Awww, Joy.” He tried to hug her, hold her, console her, but she clung to the throw pillow, not budging, even after the sobs stopped. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” Finally he flipped her onto her back. “I’m not gonna let you fall asleep, so don’t even try it.”
“I’m exhausted. Please…let me rest my eyes.” The harder he tried to keep her awake, the tighter she squeezed her eyelids together. She bucked and pushed, but still couldn’t shake him off. “Damn you.”
With no sensible way to end this losing battle, Tristan did the one thing he could think of with Joy pinned supine beneath him. Time to break out the heavy artillery. “Stay still, will ya.” He snatched her slender wrists above her head with one hand while the other found the zipper of her jeans, already working itself down during the struggle without the button to hold the waistband together.
She stopped thrashing and her lids flew open to almost double their usual size. “What the hell’re you doing?” she shrieked.
“Whatever it takes to keep you awake. Unless you don’t want me to. Better speak now, sunshine, or forever hold your peace, ’cause anything you say, can and will be used against you.”
A wicked smile curved her sealed lips.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” A quick dip with his fingertip proved she was as slick as a fresh lubed engine.
“Wait.” Joy pointed to her purse on the coffee table. “Put one on if you wanna get it on.”
He intended to dive down face first, but if she wanted the real deal he wouldn’t argue. After kicking off his jeans, he found the strip of condoms, tore one off, ripped open the foil with his teeth, and rolled it on. Hang on, love…” He aligned himself between her thighs. “We’re going for a ride.” With one hand guiding him home, he slipped inside her like a key in a lock.
With a devilish grin, she giggled and gasped upon each syllable between plunges. “What. Are. You. Gon-na. Do…bang me until sunrise to keep me awake?” She squeezed her legs around his hips, synching her rhythm to his.
“Seems I’m gonna have to. Myth or not, you won’t take my advice, so you leave me no choice.” Equally breathless, he grunted each word, having a helluva time splitting his attention between grinding and gabbing. “Now shut up, will ya. Just enjoy it.”
Joy shut up all right, so quiet he wasn’t sure if he killed her or if she fell asleep despite his best efforts.
Worried, he paused, and stroked the fringe of hair off her forehead to get a closer look. “You are enjoying it, aren’t you?”
She flashed those mesmerizing eyes that mirrored his own lust-laden hunger. “Just kiss me already,” she said, breathless, then curled her arms around his neck, pulling him down.
When her cellphone rang again, she ignored it. They both did, caught in a tangle of limbs.
Tristan’s volcanic release left him listless, and Joy seemed spent as well but he refused to take her to bed.
Instead he opened the windows wide to cool things off and turned up the volume on the TV, making it impossible to sleep. As an extra precaution, he set the alarm clock on his cellphone for fifteen-minute intervals.
When the dogs nipped at his hand dangling off the couch, he realized he’d fallen asleep with Joy snuggling against his chest, shivering naked under a thin blanket.
“Wake up.” He shook her, gentle at first, then nudged her harder when she didn’t respond right away. “Joy.”
“What’s wrong?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
“We slept, that’s what.” He pressed a button on the cellphone to see why the alarm didn’t go off and discovered the battery had died.
“And I survived. See, I could’ve gone to sleep after all.”
Patting her head gingerly with his fingertips, he found the knot. “At least the bump’s gone down.”
“Good. Then we can skip a trip to the doctor today.” The blanket around her shoulders wasn’t big enough to cover her lower body, so she skimmed past Tristan to get another one from the pile in the corner.
His vision zoomed in on her curvaceous hips that rivaled the girls in the glossy magazines. And to think, this gorgeous goddess wanted him—a divorced dad. Just when he’d gotten used to the idea of never finding The One to fill all his empty spaces, along came Joy, a perfect fit in every way. The yin to his yang. The woman plucked a chord deep in his soul, like discovering a new favorite song. Things may be developing sooner than he ever would’ve expected, and faster than he’d allow in usual circumstances, but this affection connection transcended any ordinary physical attraction, although there was no denying her super sex appeal didn’t hurt the situation.
After a quick, collaborative shower, Tristan decided he never wanted to wash his own back ever again. He supplied her with a fresh set of his clothes—another pair of cozy sweats, an over-sized T-shirt, and let her wear his leather jacket, while he wore the denim one. From the garage, he dug out a spare helmet.
“Ya ready to go?” He clipped the strap under her chin.
“Nope.”
“Come on. They’re just parents. And you’re an adult. You gotta see ’em sometime. I bet they’re worried about you.” He planted a quick kiss on her sweet lips, then slammed her face shield down before she slipped onto the seat behind him.
It was a short distance to the condominium complex however Tristan extended the trip by stopping at the mini-mart for a pint of half-and-half and taking a slow cruise along the coastal route before pulling into the parking lot.
Joy jumped off the back and yanked off the helmet, smoothing her windblown ponytail. “I should’ve taken an anxiety pill but I left them in the glove compartment.”
“Don’t worry. You don’t need a pill. You’re a tough cookie. You’ll be fine. I’ll wait right here.” Tristan pointed to his place, planted on the motorcycle seat.
“Oh, no. No way. Now that I’m already in a world of trouble, you’re coming with me.”
“I don’t know about that.” He clung to the helmet pressed against his gut. “Maybe you oughta diffuse the situation before I meet your family.”
“Don’t be such a baby.”
“Me? You’re the baby, afraid of your parents.”
Joy stared into Tristan’s eyes as she curled her finger, beckoning him like she’d done on the dance floor St. Patrick’s night, and she owned him once again. Like a charmed snake, he followed her down the sidewalk and up the staircase along the outside of the building.
“If you woulda just told your mother you were spending the night with me you wouldn’t’ve wrecked your car, driving around town at midnight.”
“Touché.”
Tristan grabbed her on the landing, pulling her against him. “I like a girl that can almost admit when I’m right.” He kissed her with confidence. “You’re a strong, independent woman. They’re just parents, same as you. You’re allowed to have friends. It doesn’t make you a bad mother. You just happen to be in the middle of a sad situation. And unfortunately you have an ex who isn’t making it easy.”
“Why couldn’t I have had an ex as good as you?”
He looked at her cockeyed. “Sunshine, if you married me you wouldn’t have to worry about having an ex.” She hugged him hard and didn’t let go until he pried her off and prodded her along. “Let’s get this over with. Just be cool.”
Joy unclasped her fist to ring the bell with a reluctant finger, then sucked in a breath while she waited.
Mrs. Barbieri opened the door with a contemptuous scowl, glaring at her daughter, then Tristan, as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel before snatching the little cardboard container from Joy’s fingers. “Well…look who decided to come home.”
Mr. Barbieri slammed the newspaper on the kitchen table, sending a small stack of lottery tickets fluttering to the floor. “Where the hell’ve you been?”
Joy summed up the situation without much detail: leaving Tristan’s house last night. Stopping at the mini-mart. Wrecking the Jaguar. “I’m okay.”
“Why didn’t you call us?” her father boomed.
“I spoke to Bruno…”
“He didn’t tell us,” her mother snapped.
“I’m sorry—”
“You’re sorry,” Mrs. Barbieri huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re not happy unless you’re ruining everyone else’s day, making us miserable. Waiting. Worrying. Every minute is—”
“Like an hour—I know, Ma.”
“Let me guess where you spent the night.” Mrs. Barbieri’s laser vision scanned Tristan from head to toe. “Humph…”
“I went home with Tristan after the accident.”
“Nooo kidding.” Joy’s mother sneered.
The sight of Mr. Barbieri’s deadpan face made Tristan regret not taking the man’s daughter straight home last night. Niblet.
“You,” Mr. Barbieri spat, eyes narrow, nostrils flaring. “You were in my shop yesterday, weren’t you?” He rubbed his clean-shaven cheeks, making the mental connection. “With the beard?”
Tristan ran a hand down the day-old stubble, recalling the barber who took good care with a straightedge razor. If Mr. Barbieri knew then what he knows now, no doubt this over-protective father would have slit this customer’s throat, and rightly so. “Sir…” He put up his palms. “I don’t mean to be speak out of turn, but—”
“Then shaddup,” Mr. Barbieri roared.
“Daddy,” Joy squealed.
“Don’t daddy me. You stay in my house, and then you don’t have the decency to say where you’re going and when you’ll be back. You don’t think we worry about you?”
“I’m almost thirty—when are you going to stop treating me like a child?”
“Never,” her mother shouted, red-faced. “You’ll always be our child.”
Tristan interrupted on impulse. “I agree with your mother.”
Joy shot him a dirty look.
“Look, Mr. and Mrs. Barbieri, I have a little girl of my own, so I would react the exact same way as you. I apologize for my part in this. But my only intention was to take care of your daughter.”
“Take care of her?” The old man’s voice cracked as his eyes darted from Tristan to Joy. “You’re back in Scenic View for five minutes—how long do you know this clown?”
“Take it easy, Bob, please. Calm down. Your heart—remember.” Mrs. Barbieri rubbed her husband’s back until his panting slowed.
“I met Tristan at”—Joy stalled—“at Mr. Lucky’s. On St. Patrick’s Day.”
“The other night you didn’t come home.” Mrs. Barbieri nodded slow, connecting the dots. “Isn’t that right?”
To ease the tension of this cross-examination, Tristan blurted out a less scandalous subject. “I know of a few houses available in town—”
“A house?” Mrs. Barbieri glared in her daughter’s direction. “Seriously Joy, how on earth do you plan to pay for it on a part-time salary?”
“I don’t mean a house to buy. I’m talking about a rental,” Tristan explained. “There’s one I’m fixing up right now. With a yard. Perfect for two kids and a dog.”
“Where is the dog anyway?” Her mother’s eyes roved the floor.
“I put Rex in a kennel until I get squared away,” Joy lied. “Why must you criticize every aspect of my life, Mother? I can afford to rent a house. Lord knows, there’s no way me and the boys can live here. Can’t you just be glad I have a friend who wants to help me?”
“You mean a boyfriend,” her mother chided.
“Boyfriend?” Mr. Barbieri sneered. “What about your husband?”
“Ex-husband,” Joy said through clenched teeth.
“So, that’s it? You’re not even going to try working things out?”
“Daddy, I told you already—he’s with someone else. She’s having his baby. Besides, even if that wasn’t the case, I don’t love Victor. I haven’t been in love with him in years. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you about the divorce, but I didn’t want to upset you. I know how mad you were when you found out I married him in the first place. I didn’t want to let you down again.”
“You can’t seem to help yourself, can you?” her father mumbled before turning his back, ending the conversation as he marched away.
“Daddy,” Joy cried, but it was too late, Mr. Barbieri slammed a door at the end of the hall.
“When are you going to grow up, Joy? When are you going to stop disappointing your father?” Mrs. Barbieri followed her husband.
“I’m sorry,” Joy whispered to an empty room. Then she turned toward Tristan, shaking her head as she said, “I’m sorry I made you come in with me.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek and she swiped it with a swift fist. The pained expression tugging her pretty face was easy to read, torn between staying here to please her parents and wanting to run for the hills to save her life.
Before she made another hasty decision she’d regret, Tristan took her elbow, nudging her toward the door. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s go home.”