Pucking Around: Chapter 5

I sigh with exhaustion, swaying at my kitchen counter as I pour myself a generous glass of chardonnay. I successfully made it to the end of this marathon two days. At this point, I’m not sure which I need more: sleep or air. It’s a toss-up, really. As soon as I down this wine, I plan to crash.

Once Caleb left, I unpacked my one ridiculous bag, confirming what I already knew. The only choice in clothes for tomorrow are two evening gowns, a couple bikinis, a white lacy swimsuit coverup, or my winter gear. So, I called for an Uber and made a Target run. Three hours and $600 later, I was back in my apartment with a stocked fridge and pantry, a new comforter on the bed, new pillows on my sofa, and a load of laundry spinning in my mini washer—to include new scrubs and underwear.

Just as soon as the washer buzzes, I’ll toss the clothes in the dryer and go to sleep.

I fiddle with my phone, turning on some music. I stripped my leggings off as soon as I got home. Sports bra too. So now I’m wearing nothing but my undies and the softest cropped band tee I found in the junior’s section.

Grabbing my phone and my glass of wine, I saunter across my apartment towards the balcony. I’m a snob about making my outside spaces comfortable, and I’m already planning a patio makeover for this weekend—a plush lounger, some cafe string lights, plants for the railing. I could have one just for herbs. Basil and dill, maybe some rosemary. I make a note on my phone, using my elbow to slide the glass door shut behind me.

It’s so lovely out here. The humidity from the day has finally cut, so now it’s just warm. And so blissfully quiet. My music plays as I scroll mindlessly on my phone, slow sipping my chardonnay. I’m a few pages into my latest monster romance when I hear the loud buzzer on my washer go off. Draining the rest of my wine, I go to open the sliding glass door.

Shunk.

It doesn’t budge.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” I mutter. I tuck my phone under my arm and give the handle a harder pull.

Shunk. Shunk. Shunk.

“Oh, no. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” I hiss, setting both the phone and the empty wine glass down. “Come on, door. Please, don’t do this to me,” I whine, trying to see if there’s something I’m missing, some lever that need lifting or a latch that needs flipping. But no. Nothing. There is literally nothing on this side of the glass except the handle.

“Oh, come on!” I snatch up my phone and go quickly through my contacts, looking for the number to the front office. Of course, I haven’t plugged it into my damn phone yet!

“This is just perfect,” I mutter, opening my internet to do a google search.

I swear to god, when I get myself out of this, I’m going to bed and I’m never waking up again. I jerk the phone up to my ear, waiting as the dial tone plays some shitty elevator music. After what feels like an eternity, an answering service finally connects.

“Thank you for calling the Silver Shells Maintenance Service. Our office is currently closed. If this is an emergency, please hang up and dial 911—”

I hang up.

Oh god, I am not calling the police to come rescue me! I have a sudden image of a firetruck raising up a ladder to my fourth-floor balcony. A handsome fireman reaches out his hands, ready to lift me over the rail like I’m a kitten stuck in a tree. I’m sure all my new neighbors will enjoy watching me shimmy my bare ass over the balcony into a fireman’s ladder-bucket-thingy.

I gasp.

I know my new neighbor!

I glance over the edge of my balcony towards Caleb’s unit. Less than two feet of space separates our railings. The angle isn’t quite right for me to see inside his unit, but I can tell that a light is on.

“Please, oh please,” I mutter, pressing the call button on his contact.

It rings and rings. No answer.

“No,” I whine, dropping the phone to both hands to shoot off a text.

I wait, desperate to see the three little dots flashing at the bottom or—better yet—hear him open his sliding glass door.

Nothing.

I keep waiting.

Nothing.

Oh god, my heart is starting to race with anxiety and now I really have to pee!

Going for broke, I take a deep breath and start calling his name. “Caleb Sanford! Hey, Caleb!”

I wait.

“Caaaaaleb!”

Inside his unit, I hear Sy barking.

“Yes, help me, Sy!” I call out like an idiot. “Get daddy’s attention for me! CALEB!”

And whoosh goes my relief with the sound of his sliding glass door as it opens. Sy hops out, his little black and white head darting between the railing bars as he barks over at me.

“What the—”

“Caleb!” I call again. “Oh, thank god.”

“Rachel?” He peeks around the corner at me. He’s shirtless, his coppery hair mussed. I can see that his tattoo sleeve goes all the way up his arm, over his shoulder. The rest of him is long and lean, cut with muscle. “What are you—”

“Do you ever check your phone?” I cry, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He raises a confused brow. “It’s in my room. Rachel, what the—”

“I’m locked out,” I blurt.

“What?”

“I came out on my balcony, and I shut the door behind me, and apparently it locked!”

He chuckles, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “Oh yeah, Lo should have warned you. Don’t shut the door all the way unless you wanna get locked out.”

I deadpan at him. “Yeah, gee, thanks. I think I’ve learned that lesson. Now, can you help me?”

He glances around. “Well…did you call the maintenance number?”

“The office is closed. The auto message said to call 911.”

“That’s probably your best option. They can unlock your unit and get you free.”

I whimper, already moments away from doing the pee dance. “But that’ll take ages.”

He smirks. “You got somewhere fancy to be?”

I freeze.

Of fucking course.

If I can see him standing there in nothing but his shorts, he can see me in my thong and cropped Guns N’ Roses tee. I cross my arms over my braless tits. No way is he getting more of a show from me today. He’s seen my dildo and now he’s seen me in my underwear. He’s not getting a glimpse of the girls too.

“I can keep you company if you want,” he says with a shrug. “While you wait for the police.”

I groan again. The last thing I want is to sit up here, possibly for hours, waiting for the police to force entry into my unit and come free me from this balcony prison. If that happens, they’re going to find a sobbing mess of a woman sitting in a puddle of her own pee.

And that’s when the world’s worst, most genius idea slips into my head. “Or…”

“Or what?” Caleb replies, one elbow leaning on his rail.

I judge the distance. Not even two feet, with more than enough space where both our balcony railings extend out. Easy peasy. Just don’t look down. “Or I could just climb over there.”

He blinks at me. “The fuck you say? We’re on the fourth floor. You fall, you fall to your death, Doc. Splat.”

“I’m not going to fall,” I huff. “Look, just extend out your arms and we can better judge the distance—”

“No,” he barks, taking a step back. “No fuckin’ way. I’m not gonna help you ninja crawl your way over here. How would that even help? You’d still be locked out.”

“But you’ve got a bathroom,” I plead. “And if worse comes to worst, maybe I could crash on your couch and maintenance can open the door for me first thing in the morning. That way we don’t have to involve the police. Please, Caleb—”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy, Hurricane,” he mutters, shaking his head. “I’m not helping you. No is my answer. Don’t even ask.”

I whimper, hands dropping to my sides. Oh god, I can feel the tears coming. Once the lower lip starts quivering, there’s no stopping it. And I’m not a crier. This has just been a ridiculously stressful two days.

“Oh, what is that?” he growls, tone wary.

I sniffle. “Nothing. It’s fi-fine.”

Oh god, this man is going to hate me. Between the way we met and my dildo surprise and now this, I wouldn’t blame him if he never speaks to me again. And we have to work together! He was giving me a ride to the arena in the morning.

Now he’s standing there like a handsome, bare-chested Hercules, leaning over his railing, looking at me like I’m a three-headed hydra.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “Please don’t do that. Don’t fuckin’ cry. I can’t stand when people cry—”

“I can’t help it,” I snap at him. God, I can’t let him watch me fall apart. I duck away from the railing’s edge, using our shared wall as a barrier as I fall quietly to pieces.

After a minute, he groans and Sy whimpers. “Come on…Rachel?”

“It’s f-fine,” I garble. “I’ll be fine. Just g-go back inside. I’ll call the p-police and wait h-here.”

I can hear him muttering to the dog. “God—fuck—fine!” he shouts over at me. “Rachel, I’ll help you.”

I go still. “You will?”

“Yes—fuck,” he mutters again. “But if you fall and die, I’m telling the police that a crazy woman was trying to break into my apartment.”

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand, sniffing back my tears. “That’s fair,” I call over. “Here—take my phone first.” I reappear at the balcony’s edge, leaning over with my arm outstretched, phone in hand.

He reaches it easily. See? This is totally gonna work. He takes it and slips it in the pocket of his shorts. His mouth is set in a grim line. “How do you wanna do this, Doc?”

I survey the scene. “Umm…I think if I sort of climb up, I can reach out with one hand.” I mime as I talk. “Then maybe you can support me as I let go and reach out with the other. Then I’ll sort of just jump over, and you reel me in. Thoughts?”

“Yeah, I think this is the stupidest fucking idea ever.”

I scowl at him. “Shut up, we’re doing it.”

“Why can’t you just sit over there and wait for the police?”

“Because,” I huff, testing out the railing as I shimmy my way up.

“Because why?”

“Because I’m taking back control of my life!” I shout. “In the last 36 hours, I’ve gone from wallowing in the depths of a depression thinking I didn’t win this fellowship to learning that I did.” I climb up, using all my yoga balance to cling like a monkey to the bars of my railing.

“I packed up my life, said goodbye to my best friend, moved to a state and a city I don’t know, to take a job I’m not sure I can do, with a team I’ve never met,” I go on with a huff, carefully letting go of the wall to reach out my hand towards him.

He’s there in an instant, his warm hand wrapping tight around my wrist, providing me balance and support.

“I’ve survived flight delays and missing bags. I had a stranger fondling my dildo in public—a dildo I totally use, by the way,” I add as I fling my other arm out towards him.

“Shit—fuck—” he grunts, his hands going from my wrists to just under my ribs as he takes a death grip hold of me. “Wait—seriously?”

“Yeah, I was lying before,” I reply. “And before you ask, yes it vibrates and yes it feels amazing. And now we are never going to talk about it again. Ever. Do you understand me?”

“Ungh—yeah—”

We’re both panting as I’m now in a kind of stretched-out downward dog pose, with my feet pressed against the top of my balcony railing and my hands gripping tight to his bare shoulders.

He shifts his hold on me and stills. “Uhh…Doc?”

“Yeah?” I pant, wiggling my toes and doing my best not to look down.

“My hand is umm…”

“Totally grabbing my bare tit?” I finish for him. Because yeah, this crop top is too big, and his hand just slipped right under the bottom hem. He’s got a fierce hold on my ribcage, and I can feel his thumb brushing the underside of my boob. “Yeah, I got that Caleb, thanks. Just pull me the fuck over. Ready?”

“Yeah—shit—please don’t die—”

“Please don’t drop me,” I echo. “3-2-1-go!”

I push off with my toes and his arms snake around me tighter than a vice, pulling me across the void. His skin is hot, and his breath is in my ear, as one arm bands tighter at my shoulders and the other drops down, his strong hand at my waist.

I cry out as my shins whack into his railing, but he gets a hand on my butt and lifts me up and over to safety. He stumbles backwards as I go full koala on him. We’re wrapped in an embrace more intimate than what I’ve shared with some of my former lovers. I don’t know where his skin ends and mine begins. We cling to each other, heart’s racing, as Sy dances around at our feet.

“Uhh…Doc?” Caleb says after a minute, his breathe warm in my ear.

I huff a tight laugh. “Your hand is cupping my bare ass? Yeah, I know. Thanks for the play-by-play, Sanford. Why don’t you put me down now.”

He grunts, loosening his hold on my bare ass cheek. I un-koala myself, sliding down his front with my whole body as he sets me on my feet. We stand there, both still shaking, my hands on his shoulders and his hands on the bare skin of my waist.

There’s an energy sparking between us. It makes me nervous. I haven’t felt it since—

No, don’t go there.

I can’t do this again. I can’t let my ridiculous notions about vibes and energy drag me down yet another path to heartache. Mystery Boy was a one-time encounter. Earth-shattering sex? Yes. Soul-shattering to leave the next morning? Hell, yes.

Caleb is different. This has to be different. I know him and he knows me. We’re about to work together. Heck, my contract is already signed. We do work together. This is wrong. This is dangerous. This is not happening.

I inch away from him, my body stiff.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, his hand raising to brush softly along my jaw.

I close my eyes at the gentle touch. “Don’t be nice to me,” I murmur. “Please—”

He stills. Then his hand is under my chin, tipping it up. “Look at me, Hurricane.”

Hurricane? Is that supposed to be me? Why does the nickname make my pulse flutter?

I open my eyes and glance up at him. The light from his apartment is soft, casting half his face in shadow. He’s beautiful. Those sharp cheekbones and dark eyes put me in mind of a fae prince, cold and mysterious. Not to mention those pouty, kissable lips.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

I nod. Then after a moment, I shake my head.

I don’t even know how it happens, but in moments I’m back in his arms, crying against his chest as he holds me, his hand soothing down my back. I cling to him as I let loose all my exhaustion and stress and pain. When nothing is left to feel, only one thought remains.

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs.

I let out a soft sigh, my body relaxing against him. “I miss him.”

He stiffens slightly. “Miss who? Your boyfriend?”

I shake my head. No. Not my boyfriend. Not my anything.

“Your husband?”

I smile, pushing off his chest. “Nope. Never married.”

“Me neither. Brother then?”

I laugh, shaking my head again. “No. He’s…no one,” I reply, even as my heart says the word I really mean.

Someone.

He’s my someone. Somewhere out there, he’s being a whole person. And I’m here, afraid to let myself give in to the energy sparking between me and this beautiful man. Who knows, maybe this surly equipment manager is meant to be my new someone.

But I’m not ready for new. I’m not ready for any of the changes life has suddenly thrown my way. And yet, I have to find a way to fake it until I make it, because my life is happening right now. I’ve got the throbbing shins to prove it.

“Come on,” Caleb says, offering out his hand. “You’re dead on your feet, Doc. Let’s get you set up on the sofa, huh? Live to fight another day.”

Nodding, I take his hand.