Thunderstorm Rendevous Chapter 8

Thanks Jan. This chapter is for you, Shabab, Anita, Paz, Caye and Tasha. Hugs guys. :-)

Chapter 8

She walked over to the table. Kaos and Trace stood up. “We need to talk.” She said to Trace.

Trace looked at her worried; he opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “I’d like to talk to you in private. Let’s get out of here.”

Calla turned away from him and walked toward the door, she didn’t turn to see if Trace was following her. Trace asked for the keys to Roar’s car, which he gave him and headed after her. He found her standing near the entrance conversing with a tall man. She looked uncomfortable. Overhead, Thunder boomed and any minute now, the rain would fall down in a dense onslaught.

Trace approached them with caution. “You should join us for dinner; we could catch up on old times.” The man said.

Calla shook her head, “I can’t; I have plans, thanks for the offer though.” She turned away from him, but he caught her arm. Trace growled. He didn’t like the way the man had grabbed Calla. It was then that he noticed a petite, red headed woman watching the scene with annoyance.

“Bobby, she doesn’t want to join us for dinner, let’s get inside. It’s about to rain.” The woman tried to tug Bobby toward the restaurant, but he wouldn’t loosen his hold on Calla’s arm.

Trace without thinking, walked up to Bobby and grabbed his arm and jerked it away from Calla. Anger poured over him as he watched Calla rub the spot where Bobby’s hand had been.

“What the hell? Who the hell are you?” Bobby got in Trace’s face.

Trace glared down at him; He was about three inches taller than Bobby. “All you need to worry about is staying away from her.” Trace growled.

Bobby looked taken back by that. “And why should I listen to you?”

Trace took a step forward; they were now chest to chest. “Because she’s my woman and she wants nothing to do with you.”

Bobby glanced over Trace’s shoulder to Calla. “Calla?”

Trace didn’t take his eyes off of Bobby, but he waited patiently for Calla to answer. There was a tired sigh and then she responded. “Bobby go into the restaurant, he’s right I want nothing to do with you. Angie, I’m sorry about this.”

Trace heard the woman, called Angie, say, “I’m use to it. Sorry about this Cal, I’ll call you later ‘kay?” She tugged on Bobby’s sleeve and Bobby reluctantly moved away from Trace. Whether Calla responded or not to Angie’s apology, Trace didn’t know.

As soon as he heard the restaurant door close he turned back to Calla. Rain started to come down, her makeup began to streak down her face. Her hair was now in soaked waves, falling around her shoulders. “Let’s go.” Calla didn’t look too happy. Her shoulder slumped and she headed for Roar’s car without even thinking. Trace followed her; he unlocked her side first; then headed to the drivers side.

Trace slid into the driver seat and closed the door. He didn’t put the key into the ignition, instead he turned to her. He had to know, “Are you mad at me?”

Calla sighed. “I’m tired and I want to go home, but we need to talk first.” She told him to start the car. Once that was done and they were on the road, she gave him directions to her place. They drove in silence and it was driving Trace crazy. She was so distant from him and he hated it.

He pulled into a parking space in the garage and stopped the car. He turned to her. Before he could say anything Calla opened the passenger side door, got out and closed it. Trace scrambled out of the car and rushed after her. He followed her into an elevator; she didn’t stop him. Trace was so focused on Calla that he didn’t know the floor they got off on. They walked down the plush carpeted hallway; she didn’t seem to notice that she was dripping water all over the carpet.

She unlocked the door to her apartment and went right in. She hadn’t even bothered to tell him goodnight. Calla flicked the light switch on. The apartment was bathed in soft, golden light. Trace looked around and smiled at what he saw. The walls were painted two different colors; alcoves were painted pale lavender, while all the other walls were painted a dark blue. Large and small black and white photos in silver frames hung on the wall. The name Nora was etched in bright red at the bottom off all the photos. He assumed that the photos were all taken by her best friend Nora and given to Calla. They all depicted or seemed to depict something sexual or sensual in nature. Flashes of bright red and white pillows, as well as accessories, were displayed around the room. All the furniture such as the tables had silver metal work and frosted glass table tops.

Calla had disappeared through an open doorway at the far end of the room. Trace hadn’t heard it but the shower was going, the heavy downpour outside combined with the crackle of lightning and the boom of thunder had obscured the sound. Was he supposed to wait for her? He wandered around her apartment. There were a lot of colored photos of her with two other women. There were only three pictures of her with whom he assumed was her family. A large fireplace took up one wall, with bookshelves flanking it.

Trace perused the books on the shelf; there was an eclectic mix from erotic to philosophical. A small smile spread across his face, he could picture her sitting under a tree on a sunny, cool day reading, while he groomed a horse. He liked that image; too bad he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see that happen.

The shower stopped and he heard the door slide open. The rain had paused in its onslaught, but the thunder rumbled overhead. He heard her pad toward him; she wore a thick terry cloth lavender robe.

“Would you like something to drink? I don’t have any alcohol, but. . .”

He shook his head. “You wanted to talk so let’s talk.”