Twilight character names belong to Stephenie Meyer. I own Dodge and Burn.
These are four very busy women & I truly appreciate the time they give me and this story. Much love and thanks to Editor Azucena , Pre-readers BtwntheStacks and Lemonmartinis and Beta-MsKathy
Thank you so much for Snarky and my wonderful birthday wishes this week...you made our days extra special xoxo
Dodge and Burn / Chapter Four / The Off-Ramp
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The next morning when the phone picks up, Edward hears wild laughter in the background.
"Holy shit!" Bella's voice sounds a bit hysterical.
"Hello?" he asks.
"Michael! What's that plumber's name again?"
Michael? Is this how she always answers her phone?
"Isabella?" he asks, completely confused.
"Who is this?" she yells into the mouthpiece.
"It's Edward. Is something wrong?"
"Oh God, sorry about that. I thought you were Michael. My water heater broke…or a pipe or something. There's water everywhere. If this continues, I'll be able to go swimming in my kitchen. I should get a life raft. It's like a bad science fiction movie."
"You need to turn off your water," he advises.
"Oh shit! The lake is in the family room, too. The Asian rugs are squishy soaked. Well, isn't this an adventure!"
"Have you called your plumber?"
"That's the thing, I don't have one. Well, I did but then I caught him going through my panty drawer when he thought I'd left. Kinky bastard."
A powerful urge roars through him to find this plumber and kick his ass.
Focus, Edward.
"Do you know how to turn off your water?"
"I think so. I hope so. Damn, I always swear I'm going to learn this basic stuff and then my head goes right back into the clouds. Do you think I have my earthquake kit? Of course not! How long do you think one can survive on a Costco jumbo box of granola bars?"
He hears a squeal over the phone.
"Oh, it's almost up to my ankles!"
He imagines her in an I Love Lucy episode, creating more mayhem than what she started with. She just needs her Ethel to complete the picture.
"You've got to turn off the water!" he yells into the phone.
"Thank goodness I just moved my piles off books off the floor! Can you imagine Helmut Newton pictures soaking wet?"
He makes a mental note that she isn't someone he wants to be stuck with in an emergency. She has absolutely no focus.
"Look…try to turn the water off. I'm on my way over."
"Oh! Thank you! Bring your galoshes and your swim trunks!"
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When he arrives she's wearing shorts, a B52's T-shirt, and rainboots with little yellow ducks on them. She's completely flustered and cute, and it's very distracting.
She looks down at the canister he's rolled across her porch.
"Shop-Vac," she reads out loud. She looks up at him, grinning. "My hero!"
She opens the door wider. He smiles but shakes his head as he steps inside.
"The mop thing really wasn't working for me," she laments.
"Yeah, that's like putting out a forest fire with a garden hose. Did you get the water turned off?" he asks as they move towards the kitchen.
"I think so. Here, let me show you."
She takes him to where the line source is and he rechecks the handles. "Yeah, good," he acknowledges. "Now show me how far the water has reached." He starts setting up the Shop-Vac.
"Damn, I love a handy man!"
He laughs. "And I love a damsel in distress."
"Careful, you. I'm a modern woman you know. I can take care of myself."
"I'm sure you can. But there's nothing wrong with getting some help from your friends."
"Exactly!"
They both work hard corralling and removing the water and moving things off the floor. Edward determines that her water heater's busted, and he calls his guy to bring over a new one. Their last step is to suck as much water as they can out of the rugs and then drag them to the backyard. They drape them over the yard furniture in the sun to dry out.
"You should probably get some rugs specialists to take care of these."
"Good idea. They were my mom's so they're precious to me."
When the last of the work is done she goes in the house and gets two glasses of iced tea, and they head back out to the yard. They're both sweaty, and her hair is half out of her ponytail. She looks kind of wild. She takes off her boots and sits on the edge of the pool so she can stick her feet inside. He settles in a nearby lawn chair.
"I can't thank you enough. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't called."
"Glad I could help," he responds simply. He looks over where some bricks have come loose from a nearby planter. They're scattered around the base. "It's a lot of work taking care of a house."
"Always something to do," she agrees. "Jacob used to always push me to stay on top of things and help where he could. But I'm afraid that now he's gone, I've gotten lazy about it." She smiles sheepishly.
She watches him drink his iced tea and realizes that he's been completely neutral with her…no flirting…no steamy looks as they worked side by side. Maybe she misread him the other night. They'd both had more wine than usual. Who knows what anything meant at that point. Feeling relieved, she takes a deep breath and leans back, her elbows resting on the pool deck as she swishes her feet around in the water.
She doesn't notice how his fingers tighten over the glass when he looks at her stretched out like a lioness in the sun. She doesn't know the thoughts that filled his mind when she got down on all fours as they worked. His shame is a shadow that follows him everywhere now.
He looks at her long legs, they way she fills out her shorts and top, and then the color in her cheeks. There's something so organic about this woman. She exudes an earthy sensuality, all the more profound because she has no sense of it. Even in her shorts and old T-shirt she's incredibly sexy.
"So I'm sorry if I took you away from work," she apologizes.
"No worries. I wasn't working anyway."
"What do you do exactly? We've never talked about your work. I just assumed that it involves music. Am I right?"
"Yeah, early on in my career I performed. I had a decent following and cut a couple of albums. Eventually I got tired of the racket, always moving from place to place and dealing with a lot of bullshit. It was a rough scene. After that, I sort of fell into writing scores for TV and commercials. Lauren had a lot of connections and before we knew it I was pretty busy."
"So is that what you do now? Scores?" she asks.
He shakes his head. "Unfortunately I lost a lot of clients when I was taking care of my dad. I just couldn't handle the deadlines anymore. But honestly I was burned out on it anyway."
"It sounds like you were going through a lot. You must've been so overwhelmed." There's a compassion in her eyes that comforts him. It's soothing.
He turns his face toward the sun.
"So now I'm trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up," he jokes.
She grins. "That's wonderful. Take your time and don't worry about growing up, just find what's going to make you happy right now. That's all that matters."
For a moment he can't figure out this feeling that comes over him, but it takes his breath away. He plays her words over in his head again and again until it hits him.
Acceptance
If only he could embrace this gift she's given him so freely. Surely it would set him free.
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She follows him out to his car and watches him load up his Shop-Vac.
"You know, I was returning your call this morning. What did you call me about last night?"
She startles, suddenly remembering her conversation with Michael and her intent to cut off her confusing friendship with Edward. With the events of the day it doesn't seem relevant anymore. They seem fine. She doesn't allow herself to think that she's glossing over things because she doesn't want to let him go.
She pauses, trying to figure out what to say.
"Oh, I was just calling to see if you were available to play again Thursday."
"I see. Yeah, Thursday's good. Hey, and by the way, who's Michael?"
"Michael?"
"You thought I was Michael when you picked up the phone."
"Oh, he's my accountant. He gives me all kinds of advice too." She laughs. "Everything from tax shelters to household floods."
"Your accountant?"
"Well he's also my friend. We were involved for a while before my mom died."
"Really? Was it serious?"
"Not too serious. Honestly, I think it was more for the sex. It'd been a while-I had catching up to do."
She rolls her eyes and he laughs.
"Yeah. Been there, done that," he replies.
"I'm sure you have," she teases, pushing him toward his car door. "So on Thursday why don't you bring your wife?"
He blanches, reminded that his shadow's lingering right beside him, and he knows he's going to lie to her.
"She's on a long business trip."
"Okay, maybe I can meet her when she gets back."
"Sure." He turns away, ashamed.
When he starts to open his car door she pulls on his arm. He turns to her, and she draws him into a big hug. It feels so good to have her arms around him and he closes his eyes for a moment to soak it in.
"Thank you," she says softly when they finally pull apart. "Thanks so much for coming to my rescue."
He grins. "Anytime. You're fun to save, Isabella."
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..~*~..
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He realizes as he pulls up in front of her house Thursday that he's been looking forward to this session for days. He rings the bell and smiles, remembering that wild skirt she was wearing the first time he came here. He wonders what she'll be wearing today. She looks different every time he's seen her—he never knows quite what to expect.
He also doesn't expect a man to answer the door.
The man, tall, with sandy blonde hair and a tan is wearing work slacks and a button down shirt. His tie's been loosened and several of his top buttons undone. He's folding up one of his cuffs as he stares unabashedly at Edward.
Edward stares back. This guy apparently feels very much at home here.
"Yes?" he asks, looking annoyed.
What the hell?
"I'm here for Isabella. We have an appointment."
The blond shakes his head as he looks down at Edward's guitar. "You're the musician guy. I knew it…she never listens to me." He steps aside and apprehensively waves him in.
"Is she here?" Edward asks as he moves into the living room.
"She went to the studio to get some paperwork for me. She'll be back in a minute. I'm Michael, by the way." He doesn't extend his hand, but instead nods casually.
"Her accountant?"
Michael folds his arms over his chest.
"Her friend."
The air is thick with tension. Edward feels the irritation build inside of him. "Is there an issue?"
Michael looks down at his ring. "You're married."
"Yes, and…"
"So what are you doing here?"
Edward scowls. "What'd you mean, what am I doing here? She hired me to play for her."
"No…what are you really doing here?"
"Listen, Michael, the 'friend'…"
"No, you listen, Edward, the 'musician'. I don't know what you're about, but you need to back off of Bella."
"Back off of Bella? What in the hell do you think I've done to her?"
"I'm not sure yet, so that's why I'm warning you." Michael raises his eyebrows and scowls.
Edward looks at the guy through the red haze of fury and has to fight the urge to punch him when he starts up again.
"I hope you've figured out that she's special—she's not some chick you pick up at a bar. She not always as strong as she seems and I'm not going to stand by and let her be sucked into some fucked up situation with you."
Edward takes a step back. He can't believe this guy's directness.
"So you think because you used to date her that you can run Isabella's life? You don't know anything about me or my intentions."
Suddenly they hear a female voice in the distance. "Michael? Where'd you go?"
They both turn as they hear Bella approach.
When she steps into the living room, she has a big smile on her face. Her long hair is in a loose braid pulled over her shoulder and she's wearing a fitted knit dress in a dark forest green.
"Edward's here!"
"Yes, he certainly is," acknowledges Michael before giving her a reprimanding look.
"It's okay, Michael," she says softly.
Michael just shakes his head and turns to stare at Edward again.
Edward smiles at her, like Michael isn't there still leering at him. "Is this still a good time?"
"Oh yes!" She hands Michael a stack of papers. "We're done, right?"
Michael doesn't look satisfied. "I thought when we set this up that we talked about having an early dinner."
"Damn, I'm sorry I forgot about that. Can we do it next time?"
"You know, Bella, this is the third time you've forgotten about our meetings. Should I worry about you? Or is it because you're distracted?" He glances over at Edward and glares, like somehow this is his fault.
She nervously plays with the silver bracelets stacked on her arms and looks down for several long seconds. When she looks back up, there's a look in her eyes that haunts Edward. In that moment it's as if she's naked and completely vulnerable.
"Michael," she says quietly.
"Okay," he says, backing down. "I'm sorry." He walks over to her and gives her a hug. "We'll do it next time. Okay?"
She nods. "Thanks. I'll be better next time, I promise."
She walks him to the door and lets him out. After closing the door, she turns toward Edward. "Was it me or was there some serious tension between you two?"
"Let's just say he's not a fan of me being here. He's sure protective about you."
"Yeah, I suppose you could say that," she agrees.
"Is he still in love with you or something? Did you cast your spell on him?" he jokes, trying to lighten things up.
She still looks serious for a second, but then her mood shifts.
Striking a dramatic pose, she curls her arms up like a dancer, her bracelets clattering down her arms. "Yes, that's me…the enchantress. He's forever under my spell. Beware, Mr. C, or you may find yourself in the same predicament."
She grabs his arm and pulls him out of the living room.
He grins as she leads him outside. He likes it when she pulls on him. He drags his weight a bit so she has to work harder.
When she looks over, he winks playfully. "How do you know I'm not already?"
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..~*~..
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It's later than usual and, feeling inspired, they've ended the evening settled on the garden love seat with their glasses of wine.
He's feeling exceptionally content. "I'd like to thank you, Isabella," he says gallantly.
"You want to thank me? But why?"
"This," he says, pointing to his guitar case and waving his hand over the scene, "…has been making me fall in love with music again."
She can tell from his tone that he's had too much wine.
She takes a cautious sip from her glass realizing that she's had a bit too much as well. It's just so good to feel completely unfettered, an explorer without map or compass-just a passion to see and experience everything she can. All of her careful plans delineating them as platonic friends are getting fuzzy around the edges. Somewhere deep inside she warms to the idea that she wants to experience more than just his music.
She slides onto the slippery slope wondering what really are the boundaries between them? When does he truly become a profound part of her life?
She lets out a long happy sigh. "I'm so glad. You were especially inspired tonight. I doubt my fellow head bangers would've even recognized Bleeding Me. You made it beautiful."
"That took a while for me to work out. So no more metal requests, okay?"
She laughs. "I promise."
They sit quietly for a long moment. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees.
"You were right in that first conversation we had, you know. All I needed was someone to really listen to me." He turns back to face her and settle against the cushions. "I realize now that no one had really listened for a very long time."
She smiles at him.
"Until you found me."
"Well, I'm glad I did," she says quietly, the euphoric haze from the music still lingering. She senses the weight of her body on the seat, but it feels like her spirit is still dancing as his fingers move over his guitar, his soulful voice bringing the lyrics to life.
It's been so long that he can't remember when he felt this good. He takes a deep breath and instinctively, without thinking, he rests his hand on her thigh. It feels natural to have his hand there, and his fingertips lightly make circles over the soft fabric of her dress.
She leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His fingers push down and she feels the soft pressure as if he were touching her in secret places. This magic that's stirred up between them has a powerful pull. She's intoxicated by much more than the wine.
"Isabella," he whispers.
The sound of his voice is a drug, a seduction as the quick-sand swallows her whole. She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back, feeling the tips of his fingers skim lightly along her neck. His warm hand cups her cheek.
She can hear the sharpness of his breath and just beneath, the measure of his heartbeat.
"Isabella. Look at me."
She wants to own this moment so that her arousal at his touch is a thing of beauty, not of shame.
She wants to be seduced slowly, passionately… to be kissed until her lips are raw. She wants them to make love like sleek animals, rolling over the damp grass under the moonlight.
But most of all, she wants this man of music and pretty words, this man who at this moment holds her tender heart in his hands…
to not be married.
Married
His arms wrap around her pulling her closer. She opens her eyes in time to see him graze his lips along her jaw. He's tasting her in the way of a man not hesitant to feast. His hunger hangs heavy in the night air.
"Isabella."
His lips, oh God, his lips…
Somehow, the moment they connect, logic finally hits her like lightening.
"Wait…stop," she whispers, her mental haze clearing.
When the palms of her hands push into his shoulders, he falls back in slow motion. He doesn't need a curtain to close, or an alarm to trip off to know it's over.
Magic is an illusion, a slight of hand, a trap door to fall into.
.
She quickly moves off the love seat.
"What am I doing?" she cries out.
He's humbled by her willingness to own everything. Michael was right-she's far too good for him.
"Hey," he insists. "I'm sorry…It's me. It's all me. I just…"
She holds up her hand. "No." She looks around the yard frantically. "You need to go. Right now, Mr. Married Man."
Fuck.
He stands up and shakily tries to get his bearings. He wants to find the words to explain, but his confusion stands in the way. She's right, after all. Even with Lauren gone, even with the unsigned divorce papers stalled in the second drawer of his desk, he will remain tied to her as long as he still holds hope for his marriage. Defeated, he follows Isabella into the house, setting his half-full glass of wine on the kitchen counter.
He thinks of his dad and the quality of his father's convictions, a man who loved one woman for thirty-five years until she died in his arms. What would his dad think of him now?
He drops his head in disgrace.
Now full of determination, she storms through the living room and pulls open the front door. He pauses, considering what he could possibly say but then another feeling hits him, like he's missing a limb.
"My guitar, " he says, turning back.
"No!" she insists. "I'll get it. You wait here."
The entire march to the backyard she curses herself. The anger feels good and she embraces it. By the time she gets back to him, she's enraged. She shoves the guitar against him.
"Here."
"I'm sorry," he says, pressing his hand over his forehead. He looks broken.
"Michael was right. I can't afford to play with fire."
"But, will you let me explain..."
"Please, just go. I'm sorry for my part in this. If you must know, I feel sick about it."
"Isabella."
"Please…please…."
He drops his head defeated and steps outside. When the door closes behind him, he knows he's lost something extraordinary.
What an utter fool he was, trying to catch a butterfly with such mangled hands.
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..~*~..
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"What the hell is wrong with him?" Alice asks Jasper in a low voice. "I thought he was getting better."
"Something with that woman. That's all I can figure out. He's only said a few things. He hasn't talked in over an hour," Jasper explains, looking up at the clock. "He doesn't even know yet that I took his keys away. We're going to have to get him a cab home."
"Damn. He was happy last time we saw him. I was so hopeful."
"Me too, baby. Me too."
.
"Here, I made you a sandwich. You need to eat something." Alice pushes the plate close to Edward, and he takes a look and then pushes it away.
"Not hungry," he growls before taking another sip of his drink.
"What happened? I swear it breaks my heart to see you like this. You know you're like a brother to me, Edward."
He shakes his head firmly before rubbing his hands roughly over his face.
"I should have never gone there. I didn't think it was possible to feel worse than I've been, but I was fucking wrong. I feel much worse now."
Alice walks to the customer side of the bar and climbs onto the stool next to him. She knows sometimes he'll talk to her even when Jasper can't get through to him. "What happened?"
"I tried to kiss her."
"Okay," she responds.
"But, I wanted her. Damn…I wanted her badly."
"And she didn't want you?"
"Oh, she wanted me. The feeling between us…well, it's something powerful. And for a minute she seemed willing to surrender to it, but then…"
"Yes?" Alice says gently.
"She remembered I was married, and she freaked out."
The anguish in his face is hard to take. Alice looks down at his ring and scowls. "But you aren't married, Edward, not really. If you like her why haven't you explained that to her?"
"I don't know," he moans as his fingers tighten into fists. "Maybe because I'm an asshole. Maybe because I don't know what I want anymore. For fifteen years all I wanted was Lauren. I don't know why I can't let her go. She got over me a long time ago."
Alice shakes her head and sits up straight on her stool before facing him.
"I'm going to tell you something, Edward, and I know you don't want to hear it."
"Then don't tell me. I'm really not in the fucking mood for advice."
Of course she ignores him.
"Lauren's not coming back and you've got to let her go."
"Alice, don't."
"But there's something else. I haven't said it, even though I've thought it, but I'm going to say it now. You've been blind for a long time and you've got to open your eyes. Hasn't it occurred to you that you and Lauren are completely different people now? It's not just that she had an affair, as devastating as that was, it's that you grew away from each other."
He shakes his head. "I know it was hard for her when I was taking care of Dad. I got moody and fucking depressed. It was the most horrible time in my life, watching him go through what he did, and I couldn't handle it. She saw the worst of me."
Alice reaches over and squeezes his arm. "You gave up a lot to help Carlisle. You are, you were, an incredible son."
"I would've done anything for him. He was my hero," Edward states sadly.
"And you were his."
"But now that he's gone, I never had a chance to make it up to her. To show her that I could be the kind of man she needs again."
"Edward, can't you see that she was gone long before all of that? Her heart wasn't in the marriage anymore. That Hollywood player she's with now was just an off-ramp out of the marriage for her. He could've been anyone."
He takes along look at Alice, and then pushes his drink away. She slides it down to Jasper and he sets a glass of water in front of Edward before stepping away again.
"Do you think Isabella was supposed to be an off-ramp for me?"
Alice tips her head sideways, considering his question.
He waves his hand like he's swatting an imaginary fly. "Never mind. Enough with the fucking metaphors, my head hurts."
She shrugs, ignoring his rant. "I don't know. I haven't met her, or seen her with you. But even if she was, would it matter? Sometimes that's just what you need. Remember, sometimes an off-ramp can take you somewhere better than where you would've ended up if you'd kept going straight down the same old road."
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I love hearing from you-even if it's to rant...perfect characters don't make interesting stories
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xoxo
abbie