Happy weekend!
I have finally brought my 9-month #camperlife journey to a close. Feels strange being on the road almost every day and then, suddenly, not. But it means I can start sending more content your way, so I’m looking forward to it!
Hopefully you’re ready for the next installment of The Forbidden Book Club. Things are going to start getting spicier pretty soon. If you’re new, every Friday I sent out a small sliver of a romance novel. It’s cheeky, designed to make you blush and yet hopefully have fun with at the same time. Links to all the previous releases are below (check those out if you haven’t yet).
But for now, I hope you’re enjoying where the story is going! And starting next week I’ll have more other goodies coming your way.
As always, have an awesome weekend!
The Forbidden Book Club
Chapter 2, Part III
That girl can put them back!
Charles watched as Erika downed her entire Coke. He had meant to touch her knee. He wanted to. But he wasn't sure if the sudden need of fluids came from his touch or from suddenly feeling too hot. Maybe his body heat made her feel dehydrated all of a sudden.
Or maybe she just liked Coke.
That could be it too. He remembered a time, years ago, when he went home with a woman he met at the bar. Walking into her kitchen the entire room was outfitted as a diner. Black and white tiles, stainless steel table, and Coke merchandise everywhere. The fridge was an old red vending machine, built from heavy iron with the built-in bottle opener on the front. She even had a 100-year-old Coke jug, filled with what he assumed to be 100-year-old Coke. Apparently some people just really liked their Coke. Perhaps Erika fell under the same category? Either way, downing the entire bottle in seemingly one gulp was rather impressive.
Erika fanned herself with the empty bottle, her eyes closed, as if in another universe.
"You must have been thirsty!"
Her eyes fluttered open, back to reality. She let out a nervous laugh.
"Yes...I...sometimes an iced cold pop really hits the spot."
A grin pulled across Charles' face. Erika tilted her head, studying him.
"What?" she said.
"Pop."
"What about it?"
"Just funny, that's all. Not something someone says around here."
"What do you call it?"
"Soda. Or just Coke."
"What if I want a Sprite?"
"Then when the waitress asks what kind of Coke you want, you say 'Sprite'."
Erika laughed. "That doesn't happen."
Charles smiled. "It sure does."
"Maybe I'll just order a Pepsi."
"In Georgia, that's a punishable offense."
"And how would you punish me?"
Charles giggled to himself. "I'm sure I could think of something."
They both laughed together.
I can't remember the last time I've had this much fun. And all we're doing is laughing about soda. I wonder if--
Charles' phone rang. He patted at his pockets, momentarily forgetting which he had left it in. He pulled it out and looked at the screen.
"Sorry, I need to take this."
"Of course."
Charles' shoulders slumped just a bit as he swiped on the screen. "Hi, honey.
Yes...Yes, out with Erika...Book club...Yeah, we picked out a good one I think. We were just-...I...No, we hadn't finished...We were still-...Yes...Yeah, I can do that. It can't be left at the door?...Right...No, no, I'll take care of it. Yes...Yes...Yes, don't worry...Love you-"
Charles slipped the phone back into his pocket. He'd honestly expected the "check-in" phone call sooner. Pamela knew about book club. She didn't seem to mind, although she had never been a big fan of him having fun without her around, even if they weren't even in the same time zone.
Why is only one of us allowed to have a life?
"Everything okay?" Erika asked.
Charles looked up, smile and dimples all but faded. "Yes. But I should get going. Pamela has a package arriving and needs me to be there to sign for it."
"Of course."
"Sorry I have to cut it short."
"Don't worry about it. You've got responsibilities to take care of."
Charles smiled. A tweak of sadness lingered behind the facade.
"I'll wait with you until a cab arrives."
"You know, I think I'll walk."
"You sure?"
Erika nodded.
"Better pick up some Cokes for the walk back."
"Only if they're all out of Pepsi."
Charles laughed.
Erika smiled. "I had fun today."
"I did too."
Charles folded his sandwich back into the tin foil. Erika did the same. As he turned back to her she reached out and wrapped her free arm around his back, hugging him. He felt her warmth. Her heartbeat. He could smell the rosemary and mint of her hair. The vanilla of her neck. It comforted him. Welcomed him. At a young age, his older sister watched a movie about a girl who would escape to a secret garden. It was hers. Her special place. It made her feel safe and alive. A place she could truly be herself. Charles had never understood the movie. In Erika's embrace. In her warmth. In the rise and fall of her shoulders and the soft touch of her hand on his back, he finally did. And he didn't want to leave.
But he pulled away first. Or maybe she did? She then went on to raise her right hand in the air.
"I hereby proclaim an end to the first official book club meeting."
Charles smiled and lifted his own hand. "Meeting adjourned."
They both stood, looking at each other. An awkward silence lingered. Charles wanted to stay. He believed Erika did as well. He looked down at the ground, hoping he'd find some kind of answer written in the cement. He didn't.
"Well, I should probably-"
"-Yeah, I should too."
Erika had backed up a step. So had Charles. They both laughed at the awkwardness. She started to turn away. He felt both relief that she took the initiative and sadness at the growing separation.
He turned to walk away.
"Make sure to read!" she called out.
He stopped and looked back at her, already on the other side of the park square. "I won't put it down!"
She smiled as she turned to continue on. He took another step, then stopped. He wanted to watch her for as long as he could.
"I'm sorry to bother you," came a woman's voice from behind Charles. He turned to face a group of elderly women; their once permed curls drooping under the humidity's weight.
"Don't mention it," he said with a smile. "Y'all need help with something?"
"If you don't mind. We're looking for the restaurant on all the TV programs."
"Ah, yes. You're going to want to walk straight until you come to the next square."
"Square?" one of the women asked.
"Yes, similar to this small square park."
"Oh yes, of course."
"So y'all walk to the next square. Congress Street is the road right in front of it. Y'all want to turn left there. From there it's a straight walk. Just a few blocks."
"Thank you so much," the woman said. "Is it as good as they say?"
Charles smiled. He didn't want to burst their hopes by telling the truth. "It is good, yes. But let me tell y'all a little insider secret."
The old women leaned in, not wanting to miss any of the confidential information.
"If ya'll going to be around a few days, head down to Jones Street, the west side of Bull Street, for an early lunch. There's a small restaurant there. Real easy to miss. But there's a small sign out front. It doesn't take reservations and it only seats a few tables at a time. There's no menu either, but it's like a southern Thanksgiving."
"No menu?" one of the women repeated.
"No, ma'am. But they make all the fixin's and y'all just eat whatever you want."
The old women huddled and discussed.
"Jones Street and...?"
"West side of Bull."
"West side of Bull. Thank you so much, young man. You've been too kind to help a few old ladies out."
"Y'all don't look a day over 25"
The women laughed. Before going their way one of the women removed a crinkled napkin from her purse and handed it over to Charles. "Have a little sauce on your face there." He took the napkin and thanked her as she hurried to catch up with her friends.
Charles dabbed the napkin at the dried sauce on his face as he looked back over his shoulder. Erika was gone. He stared off in the distance where she had been, picturing her in his mind before she faded away. He tossed the used napkin into a trashcan, tucked the book and sandwich under his shoulder, and headed in the direction of his car.
****
The old women hung on his every word. It was really quite adorable and heartwarming. Erika took it in before turning the corner and he fell out of sight. She felt...strange. Both hot and cold. Every thought of Charles increased her heart rate and quickened her breath. Yet eventually she'd go numb when she realized she couldn't have him. That she was falling for the idea of a man that never could be. Her heart and mind were pulling in so many directions, threatening to burst at seams she didn't even know existed. Despite it all, she couldn't stop thinking of him.
Why are you torturing yourself, Erika?
Her mind traced over the entire day. From meeting him outside of the bookshop to the final few moments on the bench, it had all been so, dare she say, perfect? And it wasn't just his looks. Sure, he looked great. Hard body. Butt that could wear out any pair of jeans. Those dimples-
-God, those dimples-
It was so much more. His smile. His personality. The way he laughed. The way he could connect with her. The softness behind his blue eyes. Nothing felt forced. It all felt so perfect.
There's that word again, Erika.
But it couldn't be perfect. She knew that. The entire world knew that. There was one major hurdle in the way. Not even a hurdle. A concrete barrier she couldn't possibly push through even if she wanted to. Did she want to? Was she that person? He was a married man. Could she be the person that disregarded all that?
Pamela doesn't deserve a man like that.
Now her mind was playing with her. Telling her what she wanted to hear to make herself feel better. But was it the truth? Did it even matter if it was? Erika felt her head spinning. She needed a drink. What a novel thought. A drink to make her head stop spinning.
She continued down the stone walkway. She let her fingers trace along an intricate cast iron fence, each post blooming into a pineapple at the point. The fence safeguarded a gray building with gold colored awnings and shutters. Just enough of the gold paint had chipped and stained away to give it a marbleized aged look. As if the building had stood for thousands of years. The oversized plaque by the front door indicated it had only existed since 1780. Erika had lost track of all the plaques and signs and monuments and statues she'd seen in the city. Seemingly every building had a historical marker of some sort. Everything in the city was as historic as it was beautiful.
Naturally, it would take an outsider's lust to muck it up a bit.
The deep green cast iron fence ended, where a different historic building began. Instead of a fence, metal green high-top tables guarded the front door and a collection of English flags and Spanish moss rocked over the sign of a British pub. Erika could have sworn she'd seen the pub in some movie or television show before. But then again everything in Savannah looked like a production shot. Movie or no movie, she had never wanted a drink to numb her nerves more now than ever before, and a pint sounded fantastic. She opened the heavy wooden door and entered the pub.
…to be continued…