by Lia London
“It’s totally fine,” said Crawford, unhitching the back of the futon from its locked position and lowering it into a flat sleeping surface.
“Wait, what? It does that?” Maris stared at the full-sized mattress.
Crawford suppressed a grin. “You’ve probably had too much money all your life to need furniture that doubles for daytime and nighttime use in a studio apartment.”
She bit her lip. “No comment. But now that I know it does that, I can take the couch … er … futon thing.”
“No, no.” Crawford pulled off his sweatshirt, leaving a snug t-shirt clinging to his muscles. “You get the bed tonight. We’ll flip for it tomorrow.”
“Thanks for not suggesting we arm wrestle,” teased Maris, admiring his biceps for the forty-third time. It felt so wonderful to be wrapped in those arms, but she needed to keep herself in check. She released a sigh and nodded. “Thank you. You’re being so nice about this. If we’d gone with the original deal and kept the suite, we both could have been more comfortable.”
He took a few steps nearer. “But then we wouldn’t have seen the deer family with Mama and Papa and Baby Deer.” He winked and caressed her hair. “And Goldilocks.”
Unable to resist him entirely, she brushed his hand with her fingertips. “Are you the Big Bad Wolf?”
Clasping her hand, he rested his chin on the top of her head. “Not tonight.”
She squeezed his hand. “You’re a good man, Crawford Andrews.”
A silence followed, and she worried she’d said something wrong.
His voice came husky with emotion. “You’re the only one who’s ever said that.”
Maris felt a pang of sadness for him. “Really?”
“Maybe because I wasn’t. But you make me want to be, so if you say it, it’s enough.” He kissed her forehead, then turned to finish getting the futon ready for the night.
Moved by the vulnerable moment, Maris jerked into action, unsure of how to respond. “I think there are extra blankets in the bedroom closet. I’ll get them.”
She retrieved more bedding, but paused in the doorway, watching him move furniture aside. “Why don’t you angle it so you can see in here?”
“What?” At his stooped angle, his bangs shaded his eyes in the seductive way she’d seen in his modeling shots online.
Maris swallowed. “I’m acting like a teen at a sleepover, aren’t I?” She shrugged. “But maybe I can put my pillow at the foot of this bed, and you could, you know … arrange it so …”
Crawford stood tall, fists on his hips, and smiled.
Maris bit her tongue shyly. He resembled a superhero in civvies. “Is that dumb?”
He shook his head, still grinning. “Don’t girls talk about boys at those things? Giggle all night? My sister and her friends used to put cucumbers on their eyes and paint their toenails.”
Maris laughed and joined him at the futon. “I promise not to paint anything. But we can talk.”
They worked in tandem for a moment to make up the futon and then reposition the coverings on the bed.
“There, we did that like old pros,” said Crawford.
“Too bad you won’t be around to help make up all the beds when we set up the Annex.”
“You need to name the place something nicer. Annex sounds so boring.”
Maris nodded, following him back to the main room. “Like what?”
He paused and studied her face. For a moment they stood framed by the doorjamb, which pressed them closer together. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he said, “What about Angel’s Rest? ’Cause you’re an angel, and they’ll get some rest.”
“It won’t sound like they’re dying?”
“It’ll sound like heaven. And it will be, if you’re there.”
Maris blushed. “Oh, you and your pick-up lines.”
Crawford brushed her cheek with his finger, his gaze intense and full of longing. “It’s not one of my lines. I promise I’ve never said it before.”
Maris grasped the front of his t-shirt and tugged him down to her face, kissing him with her eyes wide open. His arms went up behind her, bracing against the doorjamb, and though nothing touched her but his mouth and his unflinching eyes, she could feel the power of his entire body shimmering through her as the kiss deepened.
Their lips parted by a fraction of an inch, and she clutched his shirt in tight fists. Breathless, she whispered, “I think we’d better retire to our own beds before I …”
His eyes did not leave hers as he backed away. “Yes, I think we’d better.”
As he lay down on the futon without sliding under the covers, he picked up his pillow and hugged it in front of him. Maris mirrored his actions, and they lay gazing at each other for a lingering, sensuous moment.
An ache inside of her longed to cry out, “I love you!” but she held back. This man, so virile and seasoned with women, would think her a silly little girl to make such a declaration so soon. She hugged the pillow tighter and exhaled.
Crawford couldn’t figure out why this innocent woman’s kisses thrilled every pore in his body, but he let go of the connection feeling more filled than if he had taken all he knew. Was she giving a part of her sweet self to him with each touch of her lips?
As he lay on his stomach watching her across the room and through the door, he somehow felt closer to her than he had with any woman. His body shivered, and he made a show of propping up the pillow and resting his chin on it.
“Okay, Maris. What do we talk about?” If they didn’t do something to distract him soon, he might turn into a jabbering puddle of Jell-o just looking at her adorable smile, her hair cascading over soft bare shoulders. Funny how Maris in a tank top and sweats could be more enticing than Amanda in lacy lingerie.
“Oh. Um. I’ve got an app on my phone called Whaddya Think. Ever heard of it?” She reached for her purse on the night stand.
“Nope, but I’m game.” He watched her sit up cross-legged and rummage through her stuff until she located her phone. When she found it, she crawled back into place, and he buried a smile in his pillow at how she didn’t try to be seductive at all.
“What’s it going to do?” he asked. “Reveal my one-track mind?” As soon as he said it, he wondered why such a stupid thing would come out of his mouth. He held up an appeasing hand. “I’m kidding. It’ll probably show I don’t have any thoughts at all. You’ll think I’m a goldfish, or something.”
Maris pursed her lips as if holding back a witty remark. “All right, Mr. Jock. No playing dumb. I won’t believe you.” She tapped something on the phone. “And it’s not a trivia thing where you have to know anything. Just … share what you think about stuff.”
“Sounds dangerous,” he teased. Except he wasn’t really teasing. What if he had nothing meaningful to say? She’d see how hollow his studly façade was.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so weird. You fly all around the tops of trees but shy away from simple little questions.”
Crawford considered this for a moment and shrugged. “I guess we all have different fears, huh?”
Maris gave him a thoughtful smile. “I guess it depends on our weaknesses and strengths. But friends can help us make weak things strong, right?”
Ah, the infamous friends rejection line. Except it sounded more like an invitation to something deeper than he understood. He nodded, still bewildered by the paradox of closeness with her even without physical contact.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Probably not.”
“Want me to go first?”
“No, I’ll try. If I can’t do it, you can have my question.”
Maris nodded and swiped the screen. “Okay. Here goes: What should more people focus on?”
The question rocked Crawford into a sitting position. “Wow. That’s not what I expected. I thought it might be stuff about my favorite rock band or dog, or something.”
She wagged her eyebrows comically. “No such luck, Mr. Andrews.” She leaned back
on her palms and gave him an encouraging wink. “Come on. What should we be paying attention to more? That’s a good one.”
Crawford drew a deep breath, frowning in thought. It wasn’t the kind of thing he pondered regularly.
He let his gaze drift over Maris’ sweet face, settling in her eyes. “I guess we should be more like you—focused on other people and helping them. I haven’t ever really done that, but it’d probably help society if I … we all did.”
“What do you mean you don’t focus on others?” Maris counted on her fingers. “You helped all those cute old couples haul their luggage up to their rooms, you kept that little boy entertained, and you … you’ve been very respectful and attentive to my needs. I think you totally pay attention to other people.”
Crawford stared at her. “Those don’t really count, do they? I mean, you’re out there helping the homeless, and …”
“Of course, they count, Crawford.” She slid to the edge of the bed, the pillow on her lap and her bare feet shuffling against each other as she talked. “You help whoever’s in your circle of influence. It doesn’t have to be a big thing on paper to make a big difference in someone’s life.”
He scoffed, embarrassed by her implications. “Hauling luggage. I’m not making a diff—”
“Uh-uh.” Maris held up a warning finger. Then her stance softened, and she murmured, “You have no idea what you’ve already done for me in the short time we’ve been here.”
A curious hope lifted Crawford. He wanted to ask what she meant by her statement, but hesitated and settled for the game instead. “So, what’s your question?”
“Let’s see.” She swiped the screen and read aloud. What technology do you wish would be invented and why?”
“Wait a minute, that is totally unfair. You got an easy question,” protested Crawford. He stopped himself when he saw her eyes cloud over. “Or not?”
Maris stared at the vacant space between them. “Maybe some kind of portable blood transfusion thing for ambulances.”
Crawford tilted his head. “That’s new. Usually people say stuff like flying cars or time machines.”
She nodded agreement. “Yeah, I guess. If I could take a time machine back and somehow stop my mom from dying in a car accident, then I’d do it.”
In three strides, Crawford knelt at her feet, caressing her arm. “Oh man, that’s rough.”
She shrugged. “I should be over it by now.”
“How long has it been?”
“Since I was sixteen. Years ago, right? Grow up, Maris.”
Crawford frowned at the tone she used on herself. “No, Maris. It’s okay to miss her, to wish she were here. She’s your mom.”
Maris slid down to the floor and leaned into him. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a downer.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Not a downer. Don’t say that.” He nuzzled the top of her head with his cheek. “Want to talk about her?”
“It’s her fault I’m a … that I haven’t … you know.”
“Her fault?”
Maris sighed and sank into his chest. “Fault is the wrong word. Inspiration. She taught me to live by high ideals of virtue and honor, to be kind and have courage. All that Cinderella stuff.”
“Sounds a little like Oralee, huh?”
Maris let out a soft laugh. “Yeah. She even promised I’d meet a handsome prince some day who would give me true love’s first kiss.”
Reliving their kiss in his mind, Crawford considered how differently it made him feel. He didn’t want it to be temporary.
“I bet Axel kissed Oralee like that.”
Her eyes met his for only a moment, and her voice wavered. “I guess I never really let go of the fairy tale. If I did, it would feel like… I was letting go of her.”
Crawford gently lifted her chin to meet her gaze. “Then don’t let go. Be the beautiful, good princess who deserves a champion on a white steed.”
Even as he said it, he knew he would never be good enough for her, too soiled by the world and selfishness.
“You hold on to who you are. The honor and virtue stuff suits you, and we need more of it. I wish I’d met you earlier in my life. Maybe it would have motivated me to be a better man.”
Her warm smile embraced him. “I think you’re pretty darn better already.”
He chuckled and sighed, sitting with his arm draped around her shoulder, stroking her hair with his free hand.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to say, “I love you” with real sentiment behind the words. But he’d let the words fall out so many times as a ploy that he couldn’t bring himself to cheapen his feelings for Maris by uttering them. Still, he needed to find a way to communicate what was going on in his heart … As soon as he could make sense of it himself.
Maris awoke to the sound of the shower running. Snuggled under the covers, she relived Crawford’s kiss good-night that sent her into a wonderful night of dreams, all starring the two of them. How had she found herself in this glorious fairy tale?
Wriggling out of bed, she determined to serve him by getting the futon put back together and tidying up the living room. She’d sleep out there in the evening and let him have the bed back. Why not? She’d be floating on a cloud for the next week at least!
As she shoved the futon mechanism with a grunt, she heard his overnight bag topple off the coffee table. She reached to pick it up and saw his cell phone lying on the ground, brought to life by the sudden jolt. There, on the screen, a dark-haired woman with enormous breasts flaunted through sheer patches of lace gave a slutty pout. A text below it provided the horrifying caption: More fun when you come. CU soon, Crawdaddy!
With a shuddering gasp, Maris dropped the phone onto his bag and backed away. Crawford had been texting a woman like that during their trip? And they were getting together afterwards? Her stomach churned, and tears welled in her eyes.
How could she have been such a stupid little fool to think Crawford would ever be satisfied with her kisses?
The door to the bathroom opened, and a cloud of steam wafted out. Crawford emerged in jeans and a polo. His smile brightened the moment he saw her, and his eyes shone.
“Good morning, Goldilocks. Was I right about the bed being way more comfortable?”
How could he look at her like that? How could she have been fooled by those sparkling blues?
She ground her teeth, remembering he was a performer, after all. A model with acting experience. With her lips pressed in a thin line, she nodded. “Done with the bathroom?”
He stepped away. “Oh, yeah. Of course. You probably had to pee this whole time. Sorry. I love the shower pressure here. And the view.”
The view.
Maris rushed into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She stared at the bright morning light streaming into the shower stall. The stall where they’d stood and watched the deer. Such an intimate, romantic moment.
Had it meant nothing to him? Would he forget all about her when their time at the resort ended? Would he have preferred it if she’d dropped her robe on the spot and given herself to him?
“You okay in there?” he called. “The fog’s pretty thick.”
Maris let out a weak laugh. “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Hey Maris?” His voice sounded right outside the door.
“Yes?” She turned her head toward the sound, feeling his presence so close.
“Thanks again for last night. I loved every minute of our time together.”
Her hands moved without a command from her brain, and she jerked the door open. “Really?” She searched his face and saw sincerity in every line.
“Really.” His hand rested over where hers gripped the door. “Every minute.”
“You weren’t … wishing you were with someone else … who could give you more?”
“More than a whole new way of looking at myself … and life?” He shook his head, bringi
ng his forehead to rest on hers. “Not possible, Maris.”
“You mean it?”
“I mean it.”
Maris held on to the door tighter to keep from melting. “Just checking.”
With a soft click, she fastened the lock, aware that her lips yearned for a confirming kiss. Was she crazy to believe him? Or was she setting herself up for heartache?
Chapter 9 ~ Human Resource Changes
Crawford dragged himself onto the balcony where he could bask in the sun until the light of Maris’ eyes returned. He was a total gonner, unsure of how to proceed, but sure he wanted to make an effort.
“Okay, Crawdaddy. What else can you do for the girl?” He worried he’d never be able to show her how much she’d changed the way he perceived her—and what a man and woman could be together.
“Step one,” he mumbled, “is get rid of the other ladies.” He walked back inside and smiled at her efforts to clear up the furniture. Snatching his phone from the opening of his bag, he began the long process of deleting all the female contacts to whom he was not related. If they called him again, he’d find the right way to apologize and say he wasn’t available anymore.
For a moment, Crawford second-guessed that idea. Maris wasn’t his official girlfriend. Shrugging, he acknowledged to himself that he needed to man up and break up with the other women either way. He didn’t love them. Why lead them on?
He finished as she came out, and for a moment, her face darkened to see him on the phone.
“Hey, I’m finishing up some business.” He tucked the phone away in the side pocket of his bag. He wouldn’t need it for anything unless they wanted photos later.
She nodded slowly. “Okay. Ready for breakfast?”
“Sure. Should we try the restaurant grub this time?”
“Yeah,” she said, closing the door to the bedroom behind her. “Let me get dressed, and I’ll be right out.”
***
Breakfast was quieter than their other meals, and Maris’ eyes held a distant sadness. Crawford wondered if she felt guilty for their kisses.
