by Aidèe Jaimes
He’s there!
Why is he there? Oh my God, I can hardly contain this feeling. I don’t know what to do with myself.
That damned black truck is back at Mr. and Mrs. Jensen’s house and I am going bonkers trying to think of an excuse to go over there. I’d done the same quick glance in their direction from my living room window, it’s become an automatic thing lately. Never anything. Then suddenly he’s there and I nearly have a heart attack.
Now I am walking by every few seconds looking their way hoping for a small peek at the man himself.
I just need to see him one more time, I tell myself. Just one more time to see if he is as unnervingly sexy as I remember, or if my brain made it all up. Maybe if I see him again I will realize he is nowhere near as beautiful and I can get my mind onto more important things.
Ugh! I have been over their house a few times, just to chat. They love Mia and she loves their little dog, Puggy. Not once has Bo been there at the same time as me. Though I must admit that the thought of him arriving to catch me there always gives me a huge adrenaline rush and I pay a lot more attention to the way I look. A little more eyeliner, more blush. Concealer.
But he never comes.
“Just invite me over already!” I scream in my head.
No, don’t! What am I thinking? This is crazy. But if I just take Mia out for a bit, get some fresh air, and happen to run into him, that’s not a bad thing. Right?
Convinced of the innocence of my intention, I grab Mia, my heart nearly in my throat at the thought of seeing him again, and head out the door in a rush. Why, why, why! Why do I feel this for someone I saw for less than five minutes over a week ago?
I sit out there for what seems like an eternity, barely paying attention to my child’s chatting, jumping at every sound. But disappointment begins to settle after half an hour. At an hour, I feel ridiculous. After an hour and a half, I feel like a downright idiot.
He never steps out. Why am I doing this to myself? To Mia? She is bored and begging to go back inside. And really, what would I do if I saw him anyway? It’s not like I am going to have some torrid affair with him.
Stupid, foolish woman, I think.
Shaking my head, and all thought of him out of it, I take my little girl and head inside.
“Why do I always do this? No one wants to see me hanging out of my shirt, kiddo,” I grit the complaint between my teeth as I do my best to save my dignity!
Jess looks at me with that naughty twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, I’m pretty sure there are a few people who wouldn’t mind it. Matter of fact, I would probably sneak a peek if I had the chance, ha!” She winks at me and I just shake my head and laugh.
“Kid, stop squirming on me! Go color something, please!”
Mia has somehow wound her entire arm around the spaghetti strap of my gray jersey shirt, pulling it down and away from my body. Her foot is yanking it down from the bottom. I don’t know which end to hold up first. Worst yet, my knee is pinning down my loose blue cotton skirt so that when I try to stand up I pull that down too.
This is my lazy outfit. I throw it on with a pair of flip flops and just hang out at home. Normally I would only go as far as my driveway in this, or maybe Jess’s house, as was the case today. But when Mia and I got there, Jess was coming out with Daniel and practically dragged me to Mr. and Mrs. Jensen’s house.
“They invited us to a late lunch. She’s making cornbread.”
At the mention of cornbread, I nearly ran to their house - I love it, it’s one of my weaknesses – lazy clothes completely forgotten. So now for the last hour I’ve been fighting to remain decent, sitting on the living room floor of the Jensen’s house. Fortunately, Mr. Jensen has been kept busy in the kitchen while Mrs. Jensen entertains us with the story of how she got lost downtown and accidentally ended up back on our street. Jess is laughing so hard she’s crying.
“And I tell you, girls, I look around me, and there is this man just standin’ there in his yard waterin’ the bushes after it done stormed, and he had his pants pulled up to his chest, and I think to myself, that poor fella, he really needs a good woman to take care of him. And then he looks up, and I realize, that’s my fella!” Mrs. Jensen shouts and slaps her knee laughing.
“Lydia, I told you those bushes are temperamental!” Mr. Jensen yells from the kitchen. “If they don’t have just the right amount…”
“Oh hush, you hear? You just look crazy! Why, what the neighbors must be…” Mrs. Jensen stops mid-sentence.
Ding.
The doorbell rings and she looks up surprised. “Well I wonder who that could be,” she mumbles and leaves Jess whipping at her tears, and me to deal with our children while she sees to the new visitor.
Kids can be loud. Kids in a barely furnished house even more so.
My back is to the door and I’m still fighting with Mia, who at this point is giggling and having too much fun to comply with any of my pleas, when Mrs. Jensen lets out a high squeal.
“Well, mah Lord, Boey! What’n the world are you doin’ here?”
At the sound of his name I freeze. Every part of me screams to turn and look at him, but I can’t seem to move.
Mr. Jensen drops something in the kitchen and comes running out.
“Hi Momma, neither of you answered your phone all day and I got worried.”
“Oh, Boey, I’m sorry. Now what did I do with that durn thing. Dan, you seen my phone?” she yells out even though he is standing right there.
“It’s all right, Momma, don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, well, I’m sorry, darlin’. But at least you get to meet the girls.” I hear them move towards us and Jess stands. “Girls, Jess, Cris, this is my son, Bo.”
Mia, generally shy around men she hasn’t met, finally climbs off me and goes to join Daniel in hiding behind Jess’ legs. I turn my head slowly. The first thing I see is his chest, he is so close to me, and I nearly stumble back from the sudden shock of being so near to him. My eyes travel up his torso to his face while my mind tries desperately to make sense of the situation, my nerves wild. Bo is there, in front of me. Literally a foot from me. He is tall, dear god, he is so tall. When he was in the truck he seemed big, just not this large. His hand is outstretched towards me. I look at it then shake it dumbly.
He is saying something, though I can’t make it out right away.
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“I met Jess. But I think you left before I got your name.”
“Cris,” I think I say.
“So you girls have been keeping my mom pretty busy, huh? I can’t tell you how glad I am that she has you all,” he says. “She’s moved onto the perfect street.”
I nod my head and quickly turn away, my eyes searching in desperation for an exit. I’d played this scene in my head over and over so many times, yet I hadn’t factored in how he would make me feel. My reaction to him. It takes me only a second to realize I can’t do this, be near him like this. He makes me too nervous.
There is that part of me I thought was reserved long ago only for Owen that explodes out of control inside me with Bo. My body is ready to move in that way that I know will draw attention to my most appealing body parts, an exaggerated sway of the hips, my hands toying with the C necklace that hangs just an inch above my cleavage line. My lashes want to flutter and my eyes look straight into his while I bite my lower lip.
I would never have thought twice about sending the message to a man I wanted before Owen. Hell, I did it with him. But I was always single when I did it. There was never this battle of will and body. I could do as I pleased when I pleased. No nerves, only confidence.
Now I belong to someone and I would bring him shame and pain if I allowed myself to do what I really want to.
So I have to rein it in, control myself, which I am finding pretty damned impossible. Instead I end up doing my best to avoid his eyes, or looking at any part of him, for fear that I will give my feelings away. I feel myself hunching, diminishing my app
eal as much as humanly possible I am sure, and standing as far away as I can, concentrating on Mia, wishing that I could hide in the nearest piece of furniture or maybe even the kitchen cabinets, anything to get me out of his line of sight.
If only I weren’t committed to lunch already.
Daniel and Mia blessedly, finally, find a place on the floor to play. Though I get a break, it also gives me no excuse to stay away from the conversation. Jess and a sleeping Mr. Jensen sit on the sofa facing me while Mrs. Jensen and Bo both sit with their backs to me. There is a wingback chair placed at an angle, but it would put me directly within Bo’s view. So instead I pull a chair from the kitchen and place it so that I am still behind them.
Mrs. Jensen is in deep conversation with Jess. Jess nods and smiles and gets in a few words, giving me only a quick glance when I sit.
From my angle, I can see Bo’s profile and I take him in. His face is as rugged as I remember, the same tousled, thick hair, straight nose, full lips. But now I can get a better appreciation for his body as well. His chest is broad, his blue shirt stretched taut, nicely displaying his muscular back and shoulders. His arms flex and my gaze is drawn to the tan skin matted lightly with dark hair and callused hands that say he likes to use them. I may have sighed in longing, I don’t know.
Suddenly, he stands without a word and moves to sit in the wingback chair now directly in front of me. I concentrate on the conversation, or at least I pretend to. Right now, they are just words going back and forth between Jess and Mrs. Jensen.
I feel completely on display. The atmosphere in the room feels thick, the air much too warm. My cheeks begin to flush and I know they are bright red, as is my misfortune that I can’t ever hide embarrassment. Even though I never turn to him, I know Bo is watching me, studying me. Every time I’ve come over I have taken care to look pretty. Not so much today. In my mind, I am going over what he must be seeing. Messy bun, no make-up, old flip-flops. I groan inside, then remind myself it really doesn’t matter.
Only it does.
Maybe he’s not actually looking at me. No, he is. I can feel it so strongly he might as well be touching me. Now there’s a thought to make me shiver! His fingers running lightly over my skin, over everything he’s looking at right now. I try so hard to breathe normally as I imagine what that would be like, just a little touch. A little kiss on the nape of my bared neck. Maybe my messy bun would be a blessing then! Maybe he could set the hair free and pull hard as I…
“Bo, where are you?” his mom asks waving her red tipped hand in front of him.
Jess’ eyes snap to mine and I can see she’s noticed. Darn she’s too sassy! I swallow hard and shift in my seat to ease that throb between my legs. Oh my god! I wish he could do something about that. That is not a good thing for a married woman to wish.
“Excuse me, I’m gonna check on the kids,” I say and quickly move away.
“Sorry, Momma, what was that?” he slowly answers her.
We eat scattered, me, Mia and Mrs. Jensen on the sofa with the rest of them at the table. The cornbread goes down hard in my mouth made dry from the constant arousal I seem to find myself in while I’m around Bo.
Time stands still yet goes by too fast. Before I know it, we are all saying goodbye. While I’ve been praying for the torture to end, it’s been a sweet kind of torture that I would gladly endure for at least another day.
I follow Jess closely with Mia and Daniel in hand and Bo behind us.
“Oh, wait! I didn’t pack any cornbread for you girls to take home. And I’ll get some for you too, Boey.” Mrs. Jensen turns around and heads back to the kitchen.
Jess walks back with her but stops me when I try to follow. “You get the kids; I’ll get the cornbread. Sorry!” She giggles and leaves me.
I can hear them talking in the kitchen while I pretend to look at the many framed pictures on the long buffet table in the foyer. They must’ve just placed these here, or I would have had my fill of Bo many times over.
Speaking of, I expect him to follow them, but instead he remains where he is and turns toward me. I can see him through my peripheral vision as much as I can feel him, just standing there, staring at me. It’s a hard thing to do, to look away, searching for something more interesting to me than his face. Even the dozen tiny Bo’s looking up at me now from within the mismatched frames are doing nothing to distract me.
Then the thought occurs to me that he’s simply standing there, not looking at me, just waiting. After all, who would do that? Even if he was attracted to me too, would he be so bold?
I look up, because I just have to know.
Yes, he is definitely that bold. There is a wickedly playful grin on his face that widens when our eyes meet and absolutely no shame in it. He is too confident in his look, his eyes never wavering, and I realize he knows exactly what I am thinking.
He knows. Shit he knows!
If anyone had been looking at that very moment, I am sure they thought someone had pushed me out the door when I run through it so fast I nearly fall out. I don’t look back, just take the kids and leave with a single word blaring in my head. Danger.
“Mia, Mia where are you!”
“Momma, Daddy!” she calls out in search of me and I giggle as I run into the living room and hide behind the curtains. Mia, Owen and I are running around the house playing hide and seek, mostly us hiding and her seeking, when I spot Bo’s truck through the window, and my heart skips a beat just as my stomach constricts and adrenaline rushes through me.
It’s been three months and still this same horrible reaction every time I see that he is there. Horrible, yes, because it in an unrealized attraction. Why do I feel this way for someone I only met twice? It’s awful. And I hate myself a little because I love Owen beyond reason. I could never hurt him. Even thinking of someone else seems like cheating.
“Mommy!” Mia squeals when she sees my feet and throws the panel aside.
I sweep her up and squeeze her. “You found me, you stinker!”
Owen comes out from behind the couch and she throws herself out of my arms and onto him, bringing them both down to the carpeted floor laughing.
“And I found you, my little monster!”
Our eyes meet, his green eyes fully lit with joy at being with his family. He is so beautiful to me. Loving, faithful. Never have I seen him look at another woman, never given me a reason to doubt. I know he would never do such a thing. He would never disrespect me that way. Yet here I am doing the very thing I would hate him for. Lusting over someone else.
I turn again towards the truck and I close the blinds. It is time to let this go.
3
It’s a little hard to get right to the matter of things when you have a kid who wants just as much attention from their father as you do. It’s almost like a contest, who can get Daddy to play first.
Mia wins. We follow her bouncing ringlets to the playroom, drink in hand. I sit on the side watching them play, enjoying it and slightly wishing she’d still nap so I can have my playtime with him too.
He’s leaving tomorrow. Even though he hasn’t left yet I feel lonely already. I have been doing my usual before he leaves behaviors; distancing myself, being quiet, adjusting to his absence. When he comes near me I pull away. It’s not a fun trip for him, I know, all work. But still, there is an irrational part of me that is completely out of my control and I blame him for making me feel this way.
Poor guy.
He’s taken the day off to spend with us before his trip. Taken me and Mia to breakfast, then to the park for playtime and ice cream. I love ice cream.
Still, it’s been tough for me. He’s tried to kiss me, hug me, and I brush him off. Now I feel him giving up, and I know I can’t let him leave with this impression of me.
I make myself a drink, a Bay Breeze, counting on that sweet treat to loosen me up. The pineapple and cranberry make that vodka go down real smooth and I quickly forget I’m mad at him for leaving.
I feel bold, and I nee
d him.
And goodness does he look sexy. His hair is messy from rolling around with Mia, tickling her and flipping her over his back. His cheeks are sporting a few days’ worth of growth, with several silver whiskers growing in among his dark brown. He knows how much I love it when he lets it grow, just a little, not a full beard, or even a goatee, but just enough that his cheeks scrape my inner thighs.
I take a deep breath to calm myself. It’s a hard thing to do when I can imagine his head between my legs. I need him.
The first time I reach over and run my fingers down his cock. He smiles and swaps my hand away before Mia turns back to us.
The second time, I pull out my right boob until my nipple comes out and I pinch it. Again, he smiles and waggles his eyebrows towards Mia. She is setting up toys and building small towers, her back to us. I mouth, “What?”
He mouths, “Mia!”
“She’s looking away,” I whisper only to find she is with us now.
And so it goes, every time I think she is busy elsewhere, I try to seduce my husband. A look here, a peep there. Spreading my legs as often as possible. The more I drink the randier I get, yet he seems completely undisturbed.
How is it that just before he leaves and we’ll be days from seeing each other he isn’t hurting as much between his legs as I am, wishing to devour me as much as I do? I mean he is hardly looking at me!
So, I think I need to up my game. I lay on the floor in front of him, and the minute Mia gets distracted I lift my ass up so that my skirt rises and I am in his face. He moves me away, and I laugh until my brain registers what he’s just said.
“Stop it, you’re acting like a slut,” he says with a disgusted tone.
I snap up. “Did you just call me a slut?”
“No, I said you’re acting like it. Or ridiculous if you’d rather.”
I stand so fast I nearly fall on top of him.
“Wow. Oh my god, I have never in my life been called that, would never have expected it to come from my own husband.” My throat starts to constrict and my mind races. What do I say now? Why would he call me that?
