Matchmaker 02: February

The BMW rolled up beside us as we stopped at another light. She glanced at the other car, revving the Chevelle, the thing a snarling beast, challenging any who dared to question its supremacy. They wanted nothing else to do with her, and when the light turned green, she pulled smartly away, leaving them behind.

Now that I realized I wasn't going to die, I looked at her, unable to clear the smile from my face. "You are without a doubt the sexist woman on the planet."

She grinned at me. "You liked that?"

"That was abso-fucking-lutely amazing! Now I get the whole car thing."

When we pulled to a stop again, I reached over, took her head with my hand, and pulled her lips to mine, kissing her with everything I had in me. If we weren't sitting in the middle of the road, I'd have fucked her right there.

I let her go and she straightened in her seat. "You going to be able to back that up when we get back to the train?" she breathed.

"Try me."

Ryker and I sat in the lounge, watching the California landscape pass beyond the windows as the Coast Starlight rumbled north. We were making a two-day stop in San Francisco before we began our long ride back through the Rocky Mountains to Chicago. If I were honest with myself, I didn't want the trip to end.

We had about a week and a half to go before we returned to New York, but in the just over three weeks I'd been riding the train with Ryker, something unexpected had happened. I'd started this trip simply for the adventure. Who wouldn't want to go on an all-expenses paid, five-week vacation with a young and handsome billionaire? But now I was enjoying the trip for more than the ability to visit places I'd never been.

I'd known when I'd accepted Brooklyn's invitation, I'd likely end up sleeping with Ryker, especially after she told me how panty-dropping handsome he was. She'd been right about that, but he'd pissed me off with his entitled attitude at the beginning. Talking to Serge had convinced me to stay, mostly because I still wanted to see the country, but Ryker had won me over and I'd thawed toward him.

As I got to know Ryker more, I realized his biggest problem was he'd been living in bubble of money and privilege, where for his entire life his every whim was catered to. In hindsight, no wonder he'd expected me to sleep with him the first night. He was used to getting whatever he wanted. He'd probably had women throwing themselves at him since he was old enough to be interested in girls, women who were drawn to his good looks and money. After all, he'd lost his virginity at sixteen, for Christ's sake.

I'd also learned I was no different than he was in some ways. I'd made assumptions about him and his life that were unfair and untrue. We were the sum of our experiences, and to his credit, he was expanding his experiences and growing as a person because of it.

"You okay?" he asked, his question pulling me out of my muse.

I smiled at him. "Yeah. Just thinking."

"About what?"

I held my hand out and he took it. I rose and joined him in his chair, sitting sideways on his lap and leaning into his chest as his arms surrounded me. "You."

"I'm flattered. What about me?"

I smiled and brushed his lips with my own. "Nothing in particular, only that you're not the person I thought you were."

He smiled up at me, his eyes soft. "You mean when I made you feel like a whore?"

"That, but there's more."

He nodded. "That was a valuable lesson, one I needed to learn."

"What lesson was that?"

"That people have feelings."

I spluttered. "You always knew that."

"Maybe, but I don't think I took it as seriously as I should have."

"What do you mean?"

"It seems like, at least until I met you, life was every man for himself. I didn't really care what anyone else thought or wanted."

"That's not necessarily bad," I pointed out.

"I get that, but it's not always good either. When you first came aboard, I just assumed you'd sleep with me and I didn't even think about what you might want. I should have."

I smiled at him. "Well..." I murmured, drawing the word out. It was easy to make fun of the situation now since we'd put it behind us. "If you hadn't been so damned cocksure of yourself..."

He smiled. "Like I said, a valuable lesson."

"You're a lot better now. You have a good combination of self-confidence and caring."

"That's because of you."

I spluttered. "Hardly."

"I'm serious. I've started trying to be more like you."

"How so?"

He watched the passing scenery a moment before returning his gaze to me. "I was always polite to Gerrard and Thomas because I was expected to be kind to the help, but I realize now that I kind of thought of them as pieces of furniture. They're not, and I shouldn't have thought of them that way."

"Who's Gerrard and Thomas?"

"Gerrard is one of our two drivers and Thomas is our Majordomo."

"What's that?" I asked. I'd heard the term before, but I didn't know where and couldn't remember the context.

"A majordomo?" I nodded. "Like Serge. He takes care of all the day-to-day operations of our house, makes sure everyone does what they're supposed to, pays the bills, that sort of thing."

"So, they're employees?" He nodded. "Nobody expects you to care overmuch about employees, as long as you don't mistreat them. They're paid to do a job."

"I understand that, but I've seen how you treat Serge, and that's not how I treat Thomas, Gerrard, or any of the other staff."

"How's that?"

"With respect. For example, you always say please and thank you, and you always ask, you don't demand."

"You do that."

"I might now, but I didn't before you started doing it. Now I try to remember to say, 'Serge, will you press my coat, please,' and then when he brings it back to say, 'Thank you. Please hang it in the closet.' Before it would have been 'Serge, my coat needs pressing,' and then, 'Hang it in the closet.' I wasn't rude, or I didn't intend to be, but I wasn't exactly appreciative of his efforts either. Not like you are. I realize now I should have been. I don't have the first clue how to press a jacket, yet he was willing to do it for me."

I nodded. "It's still his job, though."

"I know, but that doesn't change the fact that he does all this stuff for me so I don't have to. I'm starting to see Gerrard and Thomas differently than I did. They work hard so I don't have to, but now I appreciate it more. I mean, yes, it's their job, but it doesn't hurt me to say thank you." He smiled. "It's getting more natural to ask and to say please and thank you, and that's because of you. You're making me into a better person."

I kissed him slowly. I hadn't noticed the change until he brought it to my attention. It wasn't just his words, it was his whole attitude. "That's one of the things I like about you."

"What?

"Your willingness to learn, to question your values, and to change. I like Serge."

"I do too, just like I like Gerrard, Thomas, Millie, and the rest of the staff. I should have done a better job letting them know that."

I sat more upright, looking at him as he rattled off the names. "How many people work at your house?"

He had to think a moment, counting on his fingers. "Six, plus a few more that don't work for us full time."

"Damn! What does everyone do?"

"Gerrard and Henry are our two drivers. Thomas is the majordomo. Millie is the maid. Candice the cook. Greg, and a couple of guys that work with him, take care of the grounds. Plus there's Paul, he flies the helicopter when we use it, and Erin and Randal pilot the plane." He paused for a moment as he scratched at his sideburn. "I think that's everyone."

I rolled my eyes. Once again, the differences in our lives came front and center. "We run our entire business with three people, me and Dad wrenching on the cars, and Becky, the girl who schedules, answers the phone, takes care of the books, and collects the money."

He shrugged. "We don't need that many people, but as I've learned, we're spoiled." He paused and looked out the dome of glass for a moment. "For me, at least, that's going to change when I get back."

"How?"

"I don't know, exactly, but it is." He smiled. "For one thing, I'm getting a driver's license and buying a car."

I smiled at him and leaned in close again. "What kind of car?" I purred drawing a finger along his chin. "I know where there's a '73 Dodge Challenger for sale. It needs some work, but it's complete and could be a sweet ride."

"Know anybody good at working on old American muscle cars?"

"I hear there's a guy in Albuquerque," I teased.

He snickered. "Let me think about it."

I nodded and glanced at my phone. "We should be arriving in San Francisco in about an hour."

"It's still early. What do you want to do?"

"You're taking me to the Ghirardelli chocolate shop on Fisherman's Warf."

"I am?" he asked.

"I'd be ever so grateful," I purred, bringing my lips close to his. "I'd do anything to get to go."

"Anything?" he rumbled slowly, a faint smile teasing his lips.

"Anything," I repeated in my best, breathless, sex-kitten voice, the voice I was still learning I had and how to use.

"You keep that shit up and the only place we're going is to the back of the car."

It was all I could do not to break into giggles. I'd dated and had lovers, but none of them made me feel like Ryker did. He brought out the sensuous seductress in me, someone I didn't even know existed before this trip. That part of me had shown up unexpectedly in New Orleans when the men were standing outside our car as Ryker and I fucked our brains out. I'd enjoyed sex before that, but I'd been more reserved. Having the men so close, hearing them talking as they went about their jobs while I was bouncing on Ryker's cock, flipped some kind of switch inside me. From that moment on, I've been up for almost anything, and since then my fucking had gone from good to oh my God!

"That's for later," I cooed, my lips close to his as I watched his eyes. Dammit! I was working myself up with my teasing.

I simply couldn't get enough of him, either inside of me or holding me close as we walked along looking at the sights. I'd never been in love with anyone. I'd had some men that I felt a certain attachment to, whose company I enjoyed and looked forward to being with, but it had only been casual dating. It was more than 'friends with benefits', but less than love. We'd get together once a week or so, catch a movie or some other event, maybe dinner, and we'd often end up at my place or his for a quick tumble. When the relationships ended after a few weeks or months, I didn't miss them or regret what happened. I'd mope for a day or two, feel a little lonely for a week or so after that, and that was it. I recovered and went on until the next person interested me.

Maybe it was because Ryker was constantly at my side and I in his bed. Maybe it was the excitement of the trip and doing and seeing so many new things. Maybe it was the splendor of this magnificent railcar. Maybe it was all of that or none of it. Maybe it was nothing more than how he looked at me, how he was looking at me now. He made me feel desired and special in a way I'd never felt before.

I slowly closed the remaining distance to his mouth, out lips meeting in a slow and gentle kiss. My desire for him flared. I wanted him. I wanted to feel him inside me, but I wanted more than that. I wanted to feel his arms around me as he held me. I wanted him holding my hand as we strolled. I wanted to see him smile as he discovered some new food or experience. I wanted him to look at me as he had before we kissed, his eyes searching my face as if he were memorizing every detail. I wanted him in every sense of the word.

I slowly pulled back, exhaling softly. He was beyond my reach, heir to a multi-billion-dollar shipping empire, but I still wanted him. I wanted him in my life, to see if the threads of attachment I felt for him would turn into an unbreakable cable that bound us together.

I smiled softly at him and rose from his lap. I wasn't ashamed of what I did, but it was ridiculous to think someone like him would want an auto mechanic when he had his choice of women, but for the first time in my life, I wondered 'what if?'

"We should get ready," I said softly, shoving the thoughts aside. There was no point in getting my hopes up. I'd enjoy his company for the rest of the trip, and we'd go our separate ways when it was over.

He adjusted himself with a teasing grin as he rose to his feet. "I'm already ready. That kiss made sure of it."

I smiled at his teasing. "You're always ready for that."

"With you, who wouldn't be?" I looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "You okay?"

I returned my gaze to his and saw concern in his eyes. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

He studied me a moment. "No reason, I guess. There for a moment it looked like you were a little sad or upset."

The melancholy mood was fading, and I offered him a genuine smile. "Nope. I'm fine. Looking forward to chocolate."

He held out his hand and I took it. He pulled me in close, his arms draped loosely around my hips as he stared into my eyes. He had such expressive eyes. "Then chocolate you shall have."

"What about you?" I asked, soaking up the comfort of his embrace like a sponge.

He shrugged, and the movement was felt more than seen as his lips quirked in the smallest of teasing smiles. "I like chocolate... but tasting it on your lips would make it sweeter still," he murmured before lowering his mouth to mine.

Yesterday Deanna and I had visited Fisherman's Warf, ridden a cable car, and had a lovely seafood dinner at Anchor House, bypassing the more well-known establishments. After our meal we'd caught an Uber back to Emeryville where our railcar was waiting. After our showers, we'd retired to bed where she nibbled on the chocolate she'd purchased, allowing me to taste it from her lips, until our passions overwhelmed us and we forgot about the treats.

After a wonderful breakfast this morning, we'd returned to San Francisco, and now we were walking hand in hand through the Presidio. We wandered, going nowhere, and taking our time getting there. Our time together was growing short. We were leaving San Francisco around nine o'clock in the morning for the run across country, and the mere thought of our impending separation was bringing me down. We'd be in Chicago only a few hours, just long enough for our car to be switched to the Lake Shore Limited, before we'd be off again, arriving in New York the next evening. In less than five days, Deanna would be out of my life.

I inhaled deeply, drinking in the salt air. It was almost impossible to believe that four weeks ago today I'd pissed her off by assuming she was going to sleep with me. I'd had longer relationships, but never one so intense. I felt closer to Deanna after these four weeks than I did anyone else, save my parents, no matter how long we were together. Four weeks ago, my life had taken a major turn, and I knew I'd never be the same.

"It's beautiful here," she said as we walked along the thin strip of land between the yacht harbor and Presidio Shoals.

"Yes it is," I murmured in reply, watching as the wind whipped her hair.

We paused so I could snap a few pictures of her beside the small rock lighthouse with the Golden Gate bridge in the distant background, the top of its towers shrouded in low clouds.

"I'm freezing!" she said, tucking herself into my chest, her arms drawn in tight against her body with her hands under her chin.

We turned so my bulk blocked the wind as I held her close. The wind was penetrating and frigid, but having her in my arms warmed me in ways the cold couldn't touch. I held her for a long moment as she shivered and sniffed.

"I thought Santa Fe got cold! I've been freezing my ass off this entire trip!" I scrubbed her back vigorously, trying to generate some warmth through friction. "Aren't you cold?"

"It's a bit chilly," I admitted.

"Chilly my ass," she muttered. "Do you remember what Mark Twain said about San Francisco?"

"That the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco?"

"Yes! He should have tried it in late February!" After a moment, the sun peeked through the clouds and the wind died, and almost immediately she relaxed. "If it would stay like this, it wouldn't be so bad."

She pulled out of my arms and we started walking again, my hand surrounding her left hand as she tucked her right into a pocket. The brief warmth didn't last long. The gusty wind picked up again, and not long after that, the sun disappeared behind a cloud. We switched sides and I tucked her in close, trying to block as much of the wind as possible.

We reached the end of the finger of land where a jumble of concrete and stone formed a ruin that appeared to have washed up from the ocean. Amidst the rubble was a covered bench, the waves gurgling and splashing against the debris and echoing up through pipes. We were the only two people there and sought refuge from the wind in a sheltered bench as we listened to the wave organ.

"I've had a good time," Deanna said as she sat close.

"So have I. I'm sorry it's almost over."

"Yeah, me too."

"Are you? You seemed anxious to get back to your life when I suggested adding another day to the trip."

"I need to get back. Dad needs me, but that doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed myself or that I'm anxious for it to end."

I kissed her on the head but said nothing. There was nothing to say. As we sat, the sun came out again, and with the concrete hovel blocking the wind, we warmed quickly. She sighed.

"That's better," she murmured, tipping her face up to sun.

We were sitting, soaking up the warmth, when I heard the shouting of excited children approaching. I could have sat there on that hard bench for hours, holding her close as we watched the wheeling birds and listened to the waves singing their songs, but it was time to go. We weren't doing anything embarrassing, but I didn't want to share her with anyone, not even strangers.

"Ready to walk?" I asked.

She heaved a dramatic sigh but smiled. "I guess. I'm pretty content sitting here."

"Yeah. Me too."

We stood as two little girls charged past, their parents bringing up the rear, the man scanning the horizon, from the bridge to Alcatraz, with his cell phone. We slipped around the other way, staying out of the family's way, and began our long, slow walk back the way we came.

We strolled, talking about everything and nothing. I was at peace, more so than I could ever remember. We continued along the water's edge, allowing our feet to take us where they willed until we stopped at Fort Point, a Civil War era fort tucked under the massive red beams of the Golden Gate. It was much warmer here as the nearby hillside blocked or deflected much of the wind.

We walked among the cannon and other items on display. I didn't care what I did, so long as I did it with Deanna, but I couldn't shake the creeping melancholy trying to overcome me.

"Are you okay?" she asked as we left the fort and stopped at a local eatery for a quick lunch.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just wondering. Normally you're bouncing off the walls, but today you seem a little subdued."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"I don't want this trip to end," I said, my voice barely loud enough for her to hear.

"You said that already," she said in her normal voice.

I leaned down and brought my lips close to her ear. "I know, but what I didn't say is I feel that way because of you."