The Men of CLE-FD updated Read online

  She suffered in silence as Orlando drove. The power of the muscle car jerked and shook around her gassy body. If he hit one more bump, she would be paying to have his car detailed.

  The car suddenly came to a stop. She looked out the window noticing they were in the driveway of a quaint two-story house. She unhooked the seatbelt instantly getting a release of pressure from around her waist.

  “Where are we?” She asked.

  He turned off the car and opened the door. “I have to make a quick stop at home. You don’t mind do you?”

  “No, not at all,” she said opening the door thankful to get out of the car.

  Regan followed him inside the house. It was quaint and empty of furniture. The walls scrapped of the basic eggshell color were ready for painting. She could see the outline where pictures once hung. There were tools, paint cans and other home improvement items lying around the bare living room floor.

  She wandered around spotting the kitchen. It was big and brightly lit with sun shining through a large window over the sink. The appliances pulled from the walls and the sink was in pieces on the floor. The countertops were also missing.

  She saw Orlando in the dining room. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure, it’s down the hall and to the left,” he said gathering a stack of papers.

  She found the bathroom in the process of a major remodeling project. The floor was loose as her foot slipped on a loose piece of tile. There were boxes of tiles sitting next to the tub. Orlando must have started remodeling the bathroom and stopped to do something else. The shower and vanity looked updated in a soft cream beige color. He had tiled the walls surrounding the shower in similar colors to match the vanity. “This is going to be nice when he finishes,” she said to herself.

  She rejoined him in the dining room feeling a lot better. The suffocating feeling had passed and she was breathing freely. “Orlando, do you live here or are you fixing it so you can move in?”

  “I’m remodeling it hoping to sell or rent it.”

  “It’s a nice house. Are you into flipping houses?” She asked admiring his handy work. Not only was he a lifesaving firefighter, he could build with his hands. The man was becoming more attractive to her by the second.

  “Nope. This is where I spent the last years of hell of my marriage. The sooner I get rid of this heap the sooner I get rid of the bad memories for good. It will feel great not having to set foot in this place ever again.”

  “Oh. So, what happened to cause your marriage to end?” She asked. The room was empty creating an echo of their voices.

  “Three things happened; tequila, Jack Daniels, and Vodka. Never mix the three when in Vegas with a person with a deceptive personality, or you’ll end up at the White Chapel marrying the devil in disguise.”

  “So your marriage was a mistake. Why didn’t you get it annulled once you realized what happened?”

  His shoulders sagged not wanting to reveal the horrible truth about his marriage, so he improvised. “I made my bed so I had to lay in it. We had only been together a short time and tried to make the marriage work. Only we made each other miserable.” He took a long tape measure and placed it across the window. “Can you hold the other end for me?”

  Regan stood on her tiptoes holding the flimsy tape measure. “How did you make each other miserable?”

  He made small markings in pencil on the windowsill. “We weren’t compatible and had nothing in common. Maggie is the kind of woman who requires constant attention and I’m committed to my job and refused to look for a regular nine to five in order to keep her company. I got tired of her nagging and she got tired of me not being around and found a replacement for me.”

  Regan shook her head thinking who could be a better replacement for him. She bit her lower lip watching him stretch his muscular body. The thought of him naked sent a tingle down her spine. She could only imagine what lay beneath those clothes. A chiseled man, a well-oiled machine; a man she wanted to taste, touch, and caress from top to bottom.

  She slipped into a daydream. She imagined them lying on a sunny deserted beach. He would lean over to her, looking at her with those smoldering, hooded eyes and kiss her delicate lips. His hand would go to her waist, gently caressing her stomach and then unlace the strings holding her bikini bottom together. Gently he would lie on top of her. As she grew passionate under him, he’d lift his hands to her breasts and release them from the skimpy bikini top to feast on her aroused nipples.

  Her breathing grew short. “Phew.” She let escaped her from her lips unconsciously.

  He looked over at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said with a slow drag and a sly grin while staring at him.

  “Regan, are you sure?”

  Busted!

  She blinked realizing she’d answered while stuck in the erotic daydream. “Yeah, never felt better. Is it warm in here? I think I will go outside for some air.” She dropped the end of the tape measure causing it to spring inside the mechanism still in his hand.

  Orlando stepped in front of her blocking her path. Her forehead bounced against the plane of his chest. “Ouch.” She rubbed the spot of the imaginary pain.

  “What is really going on with you? Have I done something to you?”

  Heck yeah you’ve done something to me! “No, you haven’t done anything to me, Orlando. It’s me.”

  “What IS you?” He asked dropping the tape measure on the makeshift table. It consisted of a long piece of plywood propped between two sawhorses.

  “I’m not as blunt as you. I can’t say what is on my mind.”

  “Yeah, you can. If I have done something to offend you, tell me and let me worry about my feelings getting hurt.”

  She sucked in a deep breath wanting to spill her guts. She told herself it was fear not letting her say what was on her mind. The fact Orlando didn’t seem interested in her as much as she was in him, meant he would have to explain why, and she didn’t want to face that rejection.

  “I’d rather not say what is on my mind,” she said feeling the nervousness prickling at the backs of her knees.

  His hands rested on his narrow hips. Regan could see his lips moving, but her eyes and mind were slowly undressing him. Why was she having the horny hormone invasion? Was she trying to be a divorcee who’d bed every man she’d meet?

  She leapt to the present when his hands closed around hers. Somewhere between being lost in her mind and losing sight of him, he had moved to take her hands in his. His thumbs rubbed across her knuckles. Regan's heart raced. She had to get away from him before a repeat of what happened at the beach, happened again.

  “Regan, where are you disappearing to?”

  She pulled her hands away wiping them down the sides of her shorts. The carnal sting of his touch burned her hand. “I get lost in my thoughts sometimes. I’m deep that way or, crazy as Lincoln calls me.”

  “Oh really?”

  He held her gaze for a moment too long. She held her breath thinking what if he was reading her mind or better yet her lie. He stepped away from her going to the window, she sighed a breath of relief. The argument with Mark, this morning, should have killed any sexual tension pent inside her only it seemed to intensify her want for Orlando.

  She coughed to clear her throat. “Are you replacing the window or measuring it for a window dressing?”

  “I was thinking of putting in a bay window with a seat. It would give more character to the room. What do you think?”

  “I agree. A bay window would be perfect. The owner could put in a garden and sit and watch it grow.”

  He smiled displaying a perfect set of teeth. “I guess I have a little taste. Now if I could find someone to occupy it, I would be willing to dig the garden myself.”

  “What if I rented it from you?”

  His head whipped in her direction. “Come again?”

  “I’m serious, Orlando. I’ve been looking for a place to live. This house is the right siz
e and would be easy for me to maintain.”

  “I don’t know, Regan. It’s never a good idea to rent to friends.”

  Casting a glance at the watch on her wrist, time was moving fast but not fast enough for her. “You think of me as a friend?”

  “Sure do. You have a friend for life in me.”

  “Okay, then let me do this for you—my friend. I need a place to live so Lincoln can have her privacy. You have a house you are trying to rent. You wouldn’t rent me something uninhabitable, would you?”

  He kicked over an empty paint bucket. “I have a lot of work to do. My shifts are seventy-two off and twenty-four on. Regan, it will take me a while to finish the work.”

  “I’m not rushing you to finish the work. All I need is a bathroom and a bedroom to sleep in for the time being; the rest will be finished when you have time. And, I’m not immune to hard work. I can hammer, paint, and hang wallpaper.”

  He tilted his head playfully, “That’s cute you want to help, but those soft dainty hands have not held a hammer in…forever.”

  “Care to make a small wager on that? Say two hundred dollars?” Ouch. She felt an internal kick from her foot travel to her butt. Again, her mouth was spewing off without consulting her brain.

  He tossed an unopened pack of paint brushes at her feet. “You have the money to lose?”

  She pointed her finger at him. “I have plenty of money to lose. You just make sure you have enough to pay me when you lose, buddy.”

  “I’m not agreeing to rent you the house but I will put you to work. My next rotation ends Tuesday. Be dressed and ready to work when I come get you. Oh and don’t wear any heels or frilly clothes to hamper your productivity either. This is hard labor you will be doing.”

  “You’re on! Hard labor is my middle name and I will achieve any task given me,” she said assertively. She had not done a day of hard labor since her high school job at McDonald’s. Not only that, she could not paint by numbers or cut paper in a straight line, however, she planned to win this bet. Her next purchase would be a DIY book to read about home improvements.

  “Well, I’m done here,” he said tacking a white cloth to cover the window. “I will take you to your car unless you have somewhere else to go?”

  She lifted her brow. “We are going shopping remember?”

  He laughed aloud. “You aren’t holding me to that?”

  Regan folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, yes I am. Go wash your hands because we are heading to the mall, my friend.”

  *****

  The phone buzzing stirred Regan from an uncomfortable sleep. Her hand fumbled across the coffee table in search of the annoying noise. Rolling on her side, her back ached from sleeping on the hard sofa. She clicked on the phone rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Hello,” she answered groggily.

  “Good morning! Are you up for a little adventure?”

  Regan looked at the phone number glowing on her phone; it was Orlando spreading sunshine before the sun was up on a Sunday morning. “It’s 4:00am, Orlando. Why are you up and sounding so dang merry this early?”

  “I’m up at my normal hour on my days off. Are you going to answer my question?”

  She needed a drink of water to clear the cobwebs from her throat. Dragging her body off the sofa the stiffness in her back from sleeping one position all night deepened. She couldn’t wait for Anthony to go to work so she could sleep in her bed again. “What kind of adventure are you proposing?” She asked going to the fridge for a bottle of water. She sat at the table fighting to keep her heavy eyelids open.

  “I wanna take you bike riding.”

  She almost spit water across the table. “What? You mean like on a real bike?”

  “Yeah, is there any other kind of bike?”

  “Orlando, I have not ridden an actual bike in years. The only bike I’ve ridden lately is a stationary one for spinning class.”

  “Get dressed. I’ll be to get you in thirty minutes.”

  “Orlando…”

  “Wait, do I hear bellyaching from the woman who professes to be able to do anything?”

  A smile broke across her face. He’d remembered what she’d said which meant he listened to her when she talked. That fascinated her since Mark tuned her out every chance he got. He never took sympathy or consoled her when she received rejection letters from jobs she’d applied for. He would only nod his head and tend to his own busy schedule.

  She cradled the phone to her ear loving the sound of Orlando’s husky voice early in the morning. Orlando was nothing like Mark and that made her decision to agree to go bike riding before the birds were singing, easy. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

  The helmet was too tight and made her scalp sweat. She couldn’t believe Orlando talked her into bike riding. He’d adjusted the gear on the ten speed mountain bike letting her mount it for comfort. He then adjusted the speed on his bike, which was huge. She had never seen a bike as tall as the one he was riding. Her leg barely made it over the bar on the bike she was riding. She would need a step-stool to mount his bike.

  Yet, here she was following behind him enjoying the view he presented to her, a view of his well-toned body in dark blue bike riding gear with matching helmet. She suspected Orlando took bike riding seriously by the results of his masculine legs. The calves of his legs were muscular with sparse black coarse hair covering them. The stride at which he rode showed he was not a novice biker but experienced and she was definitely holding him back.

  They took a minute to snack on fruit and granola bars before hitting the bike path however, she was tired again. They had been steadily riding and already her sports bra dripped with sweat rolling down her back. She figured she smelled like dirty socks and lilac body wash and would have to ride home with the offensive smell clogging her nostrils; there were no showers on bike paths.

  Oh, what fresh hell is this? Regan thought pumping her tired legs. Her thighs burned, her butt hurt from the hard plastic seat that barely fit her bottom, and she was out of breath from tackling the steep hill. This act of physical activity was harder than sitting on a stationary bike peddling to hip-hop music in a controlled environment. The only benefit she found doing this was the beauty of the bike path and the fresh air.

  Plenty of trees provided shade from the sun and the complex pattern the sun created filtering through the trees offered a scenic picture. They’d spotted deer, rabbits, and other animals hunting for food before chased away by walkers, bikers, and runners.

  She was not into extreme exercise. Her workouts consisted of light calisthenics and spinning and never all on the same day.

  Orlando slowed down yelling back at her. “Yo, pick up the pace—you’re dragging ass. Don’t tell me you’re tired already? We have another mile to go before the next rest stop.”

  Regan didn’t have the breath to reply. She’d run out of gas by the time she hit the top of the hill. Her chest was burning and her legs didn’t have the strength to peddle five feet much less another mile.

  Weak, hot and hungry, she took her eyes off the path and fell into a ditch filled with dead leaves and God knows what else. “Whoa! Man down!” She yelled landing on her stomach with the bike on top of her.

  “Shit,” Orland huffed, turning around to check on her. Hopping off his bike, he lifted the ten-speed off her. “Regan, are you okay?”

  She sat up spitting dirt from her mouth. Unstrapping the helmet, she tossed it on the ground nursing her bruised ego. “Yeah, I’m okay. Good thing I had on knee and elbow pads.”

  “Which you said you didn’t need,” he replied sarcastically. He examined her bike. “You got a busted tire. It won’t take long for me to fix it.”

  Regan rest against a tree, the soft grass felt like a mattress against her sore butt. She closed her eyes, saying, “Whatever. Take your time.”

  *****

  Orlando repaired the inner tube placing the wheel on her bike before filling the tire with air. Regan had been quite during the repair and he glance
d at her a few times making sure had not fallen asleep under the tree. She was busy going through her phone. He shook his head. She seemed attached to that thing and the fall was an excuse for her to check messages.

  Using a hand pump, he filled the tire and checked the air pressure making sure she was good to go. He had to give her credit for going the distance she had. The former wife of a celebrity attorney gave it her best shot proving she was not a prima donna by completing the first nine of the eighteen miles, he intended for them to ride. Dirt covered her body, her hair was a mess tangled with grass and twigs, and the odor seeping from her was not of an expensive perfume.

  All that combined, he admired the way she looked sitting under the tree. Her physical activities consisted of going to a gym, but the fact Regan agreed to go biking with him showed true grit.

  He finished her bike and grabbed a bottle of water from the saddlebag on his bike. Sitting next to her under the tree, he pulled his knees to his chest and nudged her with his shoulder. “The bike is finished. When you’re done resting, we can continue.”

  “Okay,” she replied laying her phone on the grass.

  “Why the long face? Did you get some bad news?”

  “Nothing I’m not used to.” She poured water on her hands rinsing off some of the dirt.

  Orlando didn’t understand what caused the changed in her attitude. She went from bubbly to flat an unemotional in the fifteen minutes it took to repair the flat tire. “Regan, what’s going on?”

  She hemmed and hawed, “Oh, just another rejection letter from a job I applied for.”

  “Sorry, chica. What did you apply for?”

  “I applied for a position as an anchorwoman at a public broadcasting network. I can’t even get a job at a station that has fifty loyal viewers at best.”

  “I see. I didn’t know you were a television journalist,” he said drinking his water.

  She sighed. “I’m not. I have a degree in journalism but no experience in television, newspaper print or anything. Let this be a lesson, Orlando; never put your career on hold for another person. My ex-husband is living his dream and I can’t even get my foot in the door. Do you think he’d help me?”