Later:
Ororo sat on the edge of the tub and rubbed some Nivea cream into the balls of her feet, scrubbing the bits of exfoliated callus from them with a nubby towel as she did so. If there was one body part she couldn’t afford to be vain about, it was her feet. Didn’t hurt that she wore her boots all day, so it wasn’t like anyone got a close look at them, but after a live firefight that she walked away from, it felt good to pamper herself. She gave her feet one last rub before crossing over to the vanity mirror. She peered into it, making faces, then kneading her cheekbones, looking at the hollows beneath them. Would probably help if she ate a decent meal once in a while. Would probably also help if she could be bothered to do anything else in her kitchen besides reading the morning paper and balancing her checkbook. Ororo cracked open the medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of Clinique hypoallergenic moisturizer and the firming alpha hydroxy eye serum and went to work on her face. At least she wasn’t covered in muddy grime and soot anymore, and her hair didn’t smell like smoke anymore, thank goodness. She reached for the Visine eye drops and dribbled some in on each side, blinking rapidly to clear her vision.
“Ick. Hate that.” Nothing worse than the feeling of something creepy and wet in your eyes. Except rain. Ororo never had any problem with the rain. She could stand out in a downpour and just let it beat down, daring it to do its worst.
All right. What to wear?
“This is a boy’s night out,” she muttered, throwing open her closet and rifling through the hangers. Jeans? Maybe. Alex and Slim would be stomping in jeans, she had no doubt. At least she’d fit the bill.
But wouldn’t it be nice, for a change, not to fade into the wallpaper?
“Haven’t worn this in a while,” Ororo pondered, pulling out a spaghetti-strapped slip dress and holding it up against herself. She stepped in front of her full-length mirror and eyed herself, turning this way and that, mentally running through which shoes she could put with it. She stepped into it and zipped it up, running her hands over the rayon-acetate blend, examining how the periwinkle blue fabric’s sheen caught the light. The handkerchief hem swished to just below mid-thigh, and the dress flowed over her curves. Ororo bent over and removed the towel from her hair, tousling it dry and raking her fingers through the tangles. While assuming this position, she examined her feet again. Maybe her silver thongs? Why not?
From the kitchen, she heard a scuffling of feet across the tiles as thunder rolled overhead. She was greeted by a series of short yelps from her six month-old chocolate Labrador, Chuckles as he padded down the hall to her bedroom door and scratched against it, begging to be let in.
“Uh-uh. Don’t do that, puppy, I heard you a moment ago. Mustn’t scratch.” She was still trying to break him of that habit, with little success. Ororo opened the door and let him in, scolding him lightly when he leapt up onto her bed. “No, you stay here,” she corrected him, patting the futon sofa against the opposite wall. Chuckles danced on his hind legs, never jumping on his mistress (she’d managed to train him out of that habit, thankfully), wagging his tail before he settled down on the futon. Ororo scratched behind his ears and kissed the top of his head, then handed him his favorite chewy toy. Ororo smoothed some more Nivea onto her legs and stepped into her silver mule sandals with white and silver beaded butterfly appliqués over the toes before moving onto her hair. She had just clicked off the blow dryer and reached for her favorite silver barrette when the doorbell rang.
Ororo’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she hurried to answer the door. “I thought I was meeting you guys at Mac’s!” she accused, grinning up at Alex as Scott turned off the car out front. Chuckles leapt off the futon and trotted to the front door, inspecting the stranger’s scent. Alex laughed at the damp nose nudging his hand before bending to give the puppy a thorough rubdown.
“Figured we’d offer you a ride,” he offered by way of explanation. Scott made his way up the walk and whistled when he saw what she was wearing.
“Why, Miss Munroe, does your mother know you’re going out looking like that?” Scott leered, nodding with approval. “You clean up nice.”
“Took me a while,” she agreed good-naturedly. “Are we just headed to Mac’s?”
“Dunno. Depends on how it is when we get there.” Alex was cavalier about it. “We were kinda hoping to shoot some pool, have a few beers…”
“…and see if the ladies we met back at the parking lot show up there like they suggested,” Scott clarified. The light went on in Ororo’s eyes and she nodded shrewdly.
“Ah-haaaahhh. Right. That tells me what I needed to know, I’ll take my Jeep and follow you up.”
“You don’t have to…”
“…and how will you explain to your lady friends what I’m doing with you when it’s time to settle up the tab and say goodnight?” Alex had the sense to look sheepish; Scott chuckled.
“That’s what I thought,” she retorted. She peered over their shoulders at the rain. She could still hear the low rumble of thunder, right before a flash of lightning illuminated the rain-slicked street. “Whoa. Let me grab my jacket.” Chuckles followed his mistress to the hall closet, tail wagging as she retrieved a lightweight, cropped Levi’s jacket of faded denim that worked nicely with the dress.
Ororo led Chuckles back into her room and left the light on for him before shooing the Summers brothers out the door and locking up. They piled into Scott’s Ford Escort and waited for Ororo to settle into her Jeep and turn on the ignition. She waved at them before they pulled out of her driveway. Ororo was just about to shift the gear into reverse when a small paper fluttered down from the passenger-side sunshade. Ororo leaned over and retrieved it and turned it over. Oh. She straightened out the creases in the old three-by-five photo and tucked it back up in the sunshade flap, then backed out to follow Scott and Alex up the hill.
Well, we'll soon find that out, thought the old queen. But she said nothing, went into the bed-room, took all the bedding off the bedstead, and laid a pea on the bottom; then she took twenty mattresses and laid them on the pea, and then twenty eider-down beds on top of the mattresses.
****
Back at Mac’s:
Ororo smiled as she locked her Jeep and secured the cover, listening to the commotion drifting out into the parking lot from the crowded bar and grill. She dodged puddles, now questioning the logic of wearing her best pair of sandals out into a night like this, and rushed inside to avoid over-dampening her hair. She was grateful that she’d merely blown it out tonight and pulled it back, instead of straightening it with her ceramic flat iron. Nothing was worse than watching two hours worth of pressing her hair go down the drain when bad weather like this “sent it back on the boat.” The foyer was relatively empty, save for a pretty redhead talking on her cell phone. She looked back at Ororo as she wiped her feet on the skid-proof mat, raising her eyebrows. “Nice dress,” she remarked, then went back to her conversation.
“Thanks,” she replied, even though she wasn’t paying her any further attention. Ororo was greeted by a server stopping by the front desk, juggling a heavy tub of bused dishes.
“You waiting for a table?”
“Uh-uh. I’m actually meeting some friends? Two men, one blond, one dark?” The young man nodded, motioning with a quirk of his head toward the main bar on the right.
“That way.”
“Thank you.” She pivoted and strolled into the noisy bar, missing the glance that the busboy gave her long legs. The redhead snapped her mobile phone shut and tucked it back into her purse. Yeah, that was subtle, Jean thought.
“Ororo, over here!” Alex called out, lining up his pool cue and aiming for the striped seven ball.
“Already ordered you a wine cooler. Raspberry, right?”
“Bless you,” she grinned. “We got a table?”
“Lorna actually saved us a booth.”
“Lorna?”
“Yup. See the really hot one over there with the green hair?”
“GREEN?” Ororo spun around and saw a woman a few years younger than she was, in a snug black Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt and olive khaki capris, guarding what looked like a pitcher of beer and two pocketbooks on the table. She paused in unwrapping a piece of gum to grin and wave at them both. Ororo waved back, suddenly feeling like the fifth wheel. She wasn’t relieved of that impression when the stunning redhead from the lobby joined her a moment later. Scott came over and handed her the wine cooler.
“Can I play winner?” she asked, unscrewing the cap of her Bartles and Jaymes and taking a thirsty sip. Whoo. That was good, but she needed to eat something to keep it from going straight to her head.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” Scott quirked his eyebrow. “Alex and I’re waiting on some wings that should be up in a minute.”
“I’ll order something eventually,” she murmured. “Why don’t I go say hi, I’ll be back in a few.” Ororo sighed and turned back to the booth. “Hi. I’m Ororo. I work with Scott and Alex.”
“At the station? You’re a firefighter?” Lorna cracked her gum. “That is SO cool. Did you help with that fire at the campsite today?”
“Mm-hmm. I was there. Mind if I sit down.”
“Squeeze a cheek,” Jean chirped as Ororo sat on the bench across from them and shrugged out of her jacket. “Have you always lived here?”
“Actually, I moved out here just this year. I live down in the valley, by myself. With my dog,” she laughed.
“Single?” Jean pushed the bowl of corn chips closer to Ororo. She took some, nibbling the corner of one thoughtfully before shaking her head.
“Actually, I’m widowed, so I guess that applies.”
“Shit. I’m SO sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’ll never stop missing him, but it’s a little easier, now that I’m working again, and I have a decent place to stay. And my puppy, he helps too. Gives me someone to love who isn’t too demanding.” Lorna smiled in sympathy. Ororo munched on a few more chips, careful not to make a meal of them as she waited for the server to come back their way. When he finally did, she asked for the half-order of hot wings with the house’s special sweet barbecue sauce. She went back to Alex and Scott to see if they’d finished their game yet, but they apologized, already halfway through another game. Men, she huffed. Ororo sidestepped the crowded bar and made her way to the shuffleboard table instead, which was unoccupied. She rubbed the small red disk in the layer of salt and skimmed it expertly down the lane, stopping just short of the white line.
“Not bad,” rumbled a deep, familiar voice over her shoulder. Startled, Ororo found herself staring into Logan’s hazel eyes, which crinkled at the corners as he smiled. She dropped her eyes back to the disks in the slot, selecting another as she considered her response.
“Hi.” She smiled back at him through her eyelashes, feeling totally foolish for the second time in the past eight hours. “I was wondering if you’d show.”
“Makes two of us. I had to close everything up. I dropped my goddaughter off at Yukio’s for a movie night that she promised her.” He reached across her for the blue disks, brushing the tops of her hands with his forearm. His skin felt hot. Ororo shivered.
Logan couldn’t believe his luck.
She was here, at his recommendation. She was in street clothes, nice ones, that confirmed his earlier suspicions: She was a total knockout, the whole package. And she smelled like a million bucks. Logan caught a whiff of Ororo’s light perfume, mingled with the scent of her shampoo, and maybe even her hair itself. He wouldn’t put it past her to smell that inviting all on her own.
“How old is she? You’re goddaughter, I mean?” Duh. As if she’d ask him how old Yukio was…She watched Logan take his shot. His disk skidded to a stop mere inches behind hers.
“Fifteen. She’s too young to help me run the shop, but she does bang-up job helping out with housekeeping. She cleans the units after school sometimes, and all the time during her summer break. She keeps all of her tips.”
“That’s good experience. At least she’ll know how to make her way one day.” Before she could find anything else to day “ which was growing increasingly difficult, with him standing so close and occupying the cozy little space, distracting her with his warmth “ Scott interrupted the moment by calling out to her, “Ororo! Your food’s here!”
“Haven’t ya eaten yet, darlin’?” Ororo waved to Scott to acknowledge she’d heard him, then returned Logan’s gaze. “Ya’ve gotta be starvin’ by now. Want me ta let ya eat something? We can pick this back up later,” he suggested, loathe to let her leave.
“Actually…” she hedged, suddenly realizing why she felt so warm, even in her bare little dress. Her arm had pressed up against his while they leaned over the shuffleboard table, treating her to the scent of Tide from his red flannel shirt. Their fingers bumped as she steadied herself. “…hold that thought, Logan. And hold that table, while you’re at it,” she nodded to the smaller table a couple of feet away. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be right here.” Ororo felt his eyes on her as she made her way back to the booth.
“Didn’t even see you leave, ‘Roro,” Alex admitted guiltily.
“Thought you got tired of our company,” Scott added.
“Not at all. But I am giving you a little more room to spread out. I’ll be over there,” she said nodding back to the shuffleboard table. Logan caught their eye and saluted them with his bottle of beer.
“Aw, you don’t have to leave,” Lorna implored, even as she snuggled closer to Alex, looking very comfortable where she was perched.
“Stay,” Jean offered, even as she laced her fingers through Scott’s, the two of them making a half-hearted attempt at scooting over.
“I’m good. Let me just move this…thanks, let me get that, too,” she nodded to Alex, accepting her jacket. “See you in a little bit.” Her steps quickened as she carried her basket of wings and sauce back to where Logan was waiting for her. He’d thoughtfully brought her wine cooler with him, setting it next to his bottle of Molson. He was dragging his fingertip through the moisture dripping off the label as she approached.
“I didn’t think ya could look any better than ya did a moment ago when I saw ya standing there, playing in that sweet little dress ya have on. But ya proved me wrong; ya look even better when yer walkin’ over here ta join me. ‘Specially since ya let me get a closer look.” Ororo felt herself blush all the way up to her hairline, and instantly regretted ordering the hot wings, as she pondered how to eat them gracefully with her fingers. She picked up one of the little drummettes and dug her fingers into the succulent meat, pulling a morsel loose from the bone and tucking it into her mouth. “Mac makes a mean wing.”
“Mmmmmm,” she agreed, licking her fingers as delicately as she could before reaching for the napkin dispenser. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I tried one. C’mon, let’s play again,” she suggested.
“Slow down, darlin’, go ahead and feed yerself. Ya’ve had a long day. Don’t want ya keelin’ over on me.”
“Don’t feel like scraping me up off the floor?” she teased.
“Nope, I wouldn’t mind that. I’d probably even enjoy that. I just want ya ta have a little energy left ta dance with me at some point. You pick the song; the band’ll be here for a while.”
He hadn’t struck her as the dancing type. “Oh. Okay.” She dipped another wing into the sweet barbecue and wrapped her lips around it to catch it before it could dribble into her dress. Still not a graceful task. Ororo gave into the temptation and licked her fingers clean. Logan’s breath caught in this throat as he watched her, taking a pensive sip of beer. He’d have given anything to reach out and capture her hand in his, and drag her thumb between his lips to sample that sauce from her skin. He liked watching her lips as she nibbled the wings and sucked the sauce from her fingers. Logan silently agreed with whatever genius that originally coined the phrase “food is a sensual experience.”
“Have you always lived here?” Great she thought, ruin a pleasant silence with small talk and bore him to death, Ororo.
“I’ve kinda lived everywhere, but I’m originally from around here. I love the mountains,” he explained.
“You already know what I do for a living,” she encouraged, fishing for more chances to draw him out. He chuckled. She liked his laugh. And she liked his mouth when he smiled. His jaw was square and firm, covered with a fine layer of five o’clock shadow. His teeth were straight and even. His thick, dark hair waved back from a forehead that was high and broad, and he had a slight widow’s peak. His sideburns were longer than current style dictated, but they framed his high cheekbones and gave his face character. His well-shaped, slightly bushy brows lifted and he eagerly took the bait.
“I own the store, rent the bungalows, and work as a handyman every now and a again. I’m at that point in my life where I’d rather work for myself more than anyone else.”
“Makes sense. What did you used to do?” Ororo was mildly surprised when he dropped his easy smile and took a pull from his beer.
“Military, for a while. I’ve kinda been stationed everywhere. My last tour of duty was about three years ago.” Belatedly Ororo peered at his neck, spying the dog tags dangling just below his collar. She reached out, glancing at him to make sure it was okay, and touched them when he nodded his assent. She turned them over this way and that in the dim light of the bar. They were slightly warm from resting against his skin.
“Got sick of it?”
“Eh. Was never really meant for it. Not really.” She released the tags, laying them back against their resting place. She didn’t expect him to capture her hand and lay it flat against his chest, covering the tags and letting her feel his heartbeat. She could have sworn it skipped, just like hers. “How ‘bout you, darlin’, ya seem like yer happy where ya are, doing what ya do. Are ya?” He stroked her hand with the edge of his thumb. The gesture felt natural and sent a tiny thrill of electricity through her stomach.
“As much as I can be, I guess.” Her tone was cryptic, and something in her expression told him that she wasn’t ready to elaborate much yet. She validated his assumption as she stood and gently freed her hand, skimming his collarbone with her fingertips. “Let’s play.” He followed her, bringing their drinks. He motioned to the bartender about an hour later, after Ororo mopped the floor with him four games in a row.
“You already bought me a drink,” she mock-complained, taking the wine cooler from him after he uncapped it for her.
“Musta slipped my mind, I only remember buying you this one.”
“Frappaccino. On the house, remember?” She sipped it, enjoying the warm, fizzy tingles running over her skin. Somehow, over the course of the night, after repeatedly reaching over each other for the disks and salt, bumping into each other, and finding themselves jostled by the crowd as the bar continued to fill, Ororo found herself ensconced in the heat of Logan’s body, his chest pressing into her back. It felt instinctive as he covered her hand with his as she took her next shot, moving in tandem to send the disk hurtling down the plank. He smelled good.
She felt soft.
And neither of them had a clue where to take things next.
The decision became a little easier as the band, a four-man blues combo, struck up a soulful cover of Eric Clapton’s “Tears in Heaven.”
“Logan?” Ororo reached for his hand, wrapping it in hers. “Know how you promised me I could pick a song?”
“I always keep my promises,” he assured her, leading her out to the dance floor. He nudged and shouldered past the other couples, finding themselves a spot in the middle where they could hear each other talk and remain uninterrupted.
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.
Logan’s hand crept up to Ororo’s narrow waist, becoming familiar with the slick, smooth fabric of her dress and the pliant flesh beneath it. Ororo’s hands slid up his arms and draped themselves loosely over his shoulders. Logan asked the question that had been nagging him all day.
“How tall are ya, exactly?” Ororo threw back her head and laughed.
“Tall enough that I get that question a lot,” she sighed, smiling. Her fingers played with his collar, smoothing it.
Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven?
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven?
I'll find my way
Through night and day,
'Cause I know I just can't stay
Here in heaven.
“Do ya live with anyone?”
“I have a puppy. Do you like animals at all?”
“I like ‘em well enough. ‘Specially dogs, but I never had one.”
“You’ve been missing out.”
“Got enough ta occupy me living with a teenager.”
“I bet. Having a puppy’s not too much different from having a baby, though. No less messy,” she grinned. His hands splayed over the breadth of her back, caressing her, catching tendrils of her silky hair. “She sounds like a great kid.”
“She is. I’m supposed ta be the grown-up, but I’m more or less her pigeon,” he admitted fondly. Ororo contemplated his widow’s peak.
“Hmmm.”
“What?”
“I like this cute little thing that your hair does. Right here,” she murmured. “It suits you.”
“Thanks!” His smile was wry but appreciative. Logan knew somewhere in the back of his mind that they must have made quite a sight, almost like Mutt and Jeff, but he didn’t give a damn. Neither did she, if the way she snuggled closer to him and rubbed her jaw against the crown of cheekbone was an indication. He heard her sigh as she breathed in the scent of his hair.
Time can bring you down,
Time can bend your knees.
Time can break your heart,
Have you begging please, begging please.
Beyond the door,
There's peace I'm sure,
And I know there'll be no more
Tears in heaven.
SHRAKA-BOOOMMMM! BZZZZZT!
The music abruptly cut off as the room went completely dark. “Damn!” Ororo heard the lead singer swear as someone in the back admonished everyone not to move. Logan appreciated a good opportunity when he was handed one. His hands were still on Ororo’s waist as they were plunged into darkness, but allowed one to roam up her spine, tangling into her hair, searching out her face. He skimmed the backs of his knuckles over the faint outline of her cheek, then cupped the back of her neck, encouraging her to lower her face toward his. She accepted the silent invitation, and her breath steamed his lips as she found him. Heat rushed into every pore of her body as he claimed her mouth with his, forcing a ragged, desperate sound from him, savoring it. Her arms tightened around his neck as her fingers plowed through the back of his hair, teasing the ones on his neck that now stood on end. A different dance took place on this crowded floor of this tiny little bar and grill in the middle of nowhere, one where only two people could hear the song singing through their blood and be moved by its rhythm. Logan pressed closer, unable to get enough, craving the taste of her as her mouth slanted over his. Her body was flush against his, every contour fitting together like puzzle pieces. Her firm, soft breasts mashed against his solid chest, while her pelvis nestled the straining bulge of his manhood, making his Levi’s unbearably snug.
All that from one kiss…Ororo was floored. They came up for air, and Ororo almost didn’t want the lights to come back on.
“Damn,” Logan muttered, licking his lips, catching the last minute taste of her. Her hands sought his face, stroking his cheek, exploring the raspy texture of his stubble. He caught her wrist and kissed the pulse. Her body reflexively arched against him.
What in heaven’s name are you doing, Ororo? How can you let this happen? Her body argued back that it knew perfectly well how she could let it happen, but her mind, and the raw, aching memories screamed that this was wrong. A sacrilege. A shameful betrayal. And that she had to get out, run fast and far away.
“Logan, I-I can’t…do this.” She broke free from his grasp, feeling the rush of cool air hit her heated skin as she stumbled through the crowd, making her apologies as she trod upon a few toes.
“Ororo?” His voice was low and dripping with disbelief. “What the flamin’…?”
With a sudden thunk, the power came back on, overhead lights flickering and washing the dance floor in its previous yellow glow. Logan wasn’t listening as the band turned off the amp, which emitted a loud squeal of feedback before they adjusted it. They launched back into the sultry song as Logan made his way off the floor.
He caught a swish of blue and the backs of her silver heels as she hurried out through the foyer.
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?
I must be strong
And carry on,
'Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven.
“Whoa, Logan, where’s Ororo?” Logan felt Scott’s firm, insistent grip on his shoulder. Logan was only focused on not wanting to let her out of his sight.
“Outside. She’s leavin’, and she didn’t stop ta tell me why.” Scott didn’t let go. “Look,” he grated out, facing the taller man, staring deep into what he could see of his eyes through those crazy glasses, “I didn’t get fresh, I didn’t insult her. That’s not ta say I didn’t kiss her, don’t me wrong, but she didn’t object,” he reasoned. His brows drew together as he wondered why he was wasting his time explaining himself. He was rewarded with the loosening of Scott’s grip. “I don’t feel like I misread her signals, bub.”
“Go after her. The weather’s shitty. No sense in letting her hare off in the rain. She drove up in the silver Jeep parked out back.” Scott hesitated a second, then called after him. “Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“I saw her earlier tonight, while you guys were hanging out. For what it’s worth, I think she liked you.” Logan nodded and hurled himself out into the downpour.
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