by Karen Grey
He shifts, withdrawing that warmth. I maybe whimper.
A glass of water appears in front of me. “Sorry, this has been sitting here since last night, but it’ll probably help.”
I nod gratefully and take a sip, trying to swallow my embarrassment. “Thanks,” I manage.
After emptying it, I set the glass on the floor and ease myself onto my back. He’s on his side, head resting on his hand. His face is full of concern, not judgment.
“Sorry about that.” My hand cradles the front of my neck. “Something got stuck in my throat somehow.”
His brow furrows.
“But I’m fine. Really.”
“Okay. Good. That was a little scary.”
I resist the impulse to cut my losses and run. It’s awkward for a few moments, but the embarrassment slips away and is replaced by a cozy feeling. “This is a small bed. Thoreau would be proud.”
He pats the wall behind him. “Yep. Maids don’t get a lot of real estate. Nor do starving actors.”
I turn to face him and stroke a muscled shoulder. “Doesn’t feel like you’re starving.” Maybe I can get things back on track here.
He brushes a hand over my hip. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Seeing the skeptical look on his face, I close my eyes. “Well, maybe not totally fine. It’s just… I think I’m a little nervous. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a… um… an audience for my… sexual adventures.”
“Ahhh, I completely understand. I try not to have too big of an audience for that myself.”
I brave a peek at him. His face is creased with a smile. “You know what I mean.” I push him, but he doesn’t budge. There’s no room.
He sits up and crosses his legs, back against the wall. “Yes, I do.” He brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Listen, we can pause this if you want. I mean, I’d love to get to know you more…” He strokes my hip slowly. “But, honestly, I don’t know if I can be, like, dating someone right now. So, I get it if you want to just say goodnight.”
His words say one thing, but the heat and energy in his voice say something else.
I grab his hand, interlacing our fingers. When I push against his palm, he pushes back and our hands do a little dance in the air between us.
“‘And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss,’” he says softly, his eyes following our hands.
How many girls are lucky enough to have a guy that quotes poetry to them, on top of making dinner and cleaning it up? I do want to go further—right now—but I’m also afraid. Of getting attached and then losing him and losing it all over again. I’m not quite ready to tell him all that, but I don’t want to close the door on things with him either.
I sit up, release his hand, and scoot back to sit against the headboard. “I don’t know if I have room in my life for dating, either.” I blow out a breath and talk to the ceiling. “Anyway, part of me really wants to go further with you right now, but part of me thinks we shouldn’t. That it’s too fast. So… I don’t know.”
I close my eyes and resist the urge to cover my face with my hands. He said it was okay if we didn’t go further, but do guys ever mean that? I did kind of lead him on.
The bed creaks and the mattress dips next to me. Warmth skips along my skin, trailed by the bare whisper of his lips over my forehead, my cheek, my nose, my lips. In between kisses he murmurs something about saints and lips and prayer and sin. His mouth is making it really hard to avoid making an impulsive decision.
When I groan, he says, “You know, I’m aware that my studliness can be overwhelming.”
The spark of laughter in his rumbly voice is just as sexy as the rest of him, dammit. I bat my eyes ridiculously and turn up the accent to eleven. “Oh, fer sure. The minute ah saw you ah had to stop mahself from gettin’ horizontal right there on yer bar.”
He laughs and flops onto his side. “Listen. You probably have to work tomorrow. So, let’s say goodnight and hopefully we’ll see each other again soon and we’ll just see what happens.” He strokes a finger along my jawline. “How’s that?”
I kiss his palm. “I like that plan,” I say softly. “But I need another real kiss before I go.”
He grins. “I can probably manage that.”
If I could manage a portfolio like he manages a kiss, I’d be a millionaire.
After watching through my living room blinds as Will’s motorcycle disappears down the block, I sweep my cat into my arms and dance into the kitchen. “Oh Frankie, I’m in trouble.”
A shiver zips through me. “He is so delicious. And he made dinner that was delicious too.” Dropping keys and purse on the counter, I head for the bedroom. “It was really hard to say goodnight.”
“Mrroww.”
“Sorry, Frank, didn’t mean to squeeze you to death.” I set him on the bed and skip into the bathroom. “It’s so late but I’m so wound up. How am I going to get to sleep?”
Will insisted on giving me a ride home. My chest pressed to his back and the vibration of the engine between my legs—boy howdy. The final kiss we shared on my front porch is spreading warmth like a bulb burning through film on a jammed projector.
So my body regrets bailing. But my brain, my heart? Jonathan’s intrusion into our makeout session was troubling. I seriously cannot afford another total meltdown over a guy who declares his love, then turns around and sleeps with someone else. No, I do not need to go through that again.
I can’t picture Will doing something that weaselly, though. The guys at work? That’s a different story.
In the kitchen to get water, I notice the blinking light of my answering machine. I should really just go to bed, but my curiosity gets the better of me. I hit the play button.
BEEP. Monday, 7:45 p.m.
Hey, Kate, it’s Brad Jamison. Can we talk before the sales meeting? I need to know what that guy from Nike told you. Thanks, babe.
“Maybe. If you stop calling me babe.” I’m grumbling, but I’ll fill him in on the extensive conversation I had with the Nike guy about signing Bo Jackson to sell their shoes.
BEEP. Monday, 9:56 p.m.
Kate! How was your date? Call me! Well, call me tomorrow because I hope you’re still out having fun!
Alice. Is it too late to call her back? I’m staring at the machine trying to decide, when the phone rings. I pick up, thinking it must be her. “Hello?”
“Hey, Kate.” The deep, resonant tone does not belong to Alice. “Just wanted to let you know I got home okay.”
“Oh, good.” My voice is both breathy and ridiculously high-pitched. I clear my throat. “Thanks again for the ride. You didn’t have to do that on top of making me dinner.”
“My mother would kill me if she heard I let a girl go home on the T on her own this late. As would Deb, for that matter.” His quiet voice sneaks through the phone lines to stir up my hormones all over again. “Anyway, I had fun tonight.”
I cross my legs to shut off the complaints from my nether regions. “Me too.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. I just can’t believe I was such a gentleman and let you leave. What an idiot.”
“Thank goodness I have a vibrator to take the edge off.”
“God,” he groans. “Now I’m thinking about you and a vibrator.”
“Oh my god I said that out loud.” And now I want to die. “Heh heh. Just kidding. I have lots of boring reading to put me to sleep. No vibrator needed.” Shut up about the masturbating, Kate. “Anyway, thanks again for dinner. And everything. I had a really good time. Duh, we said that already.”
Great, now I’m babbling.
“Want to come by the bar this week? I’d like to see you but I’m working every night.”
“I feel kind of weird coming in solo.” My mom’s voice in my head is loud. Ladies do not go to drinking establishments by themselves.
“So bring a friend. Free drinks.” I think I hear his bed creaking. Their kitchen phone has one of those super-long c
ords, so it’s possible he took the receiver to his room. “I don’t want to wait a whole week to see you.”
“I know, me too.” Even though girls are supposed to play hard to get, I’m not that good of an actress. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. I’ll see you on the weekend for sure, right?”
“I hope so. I’ll call you as soon as I get the rehearsal schedule.”
He doesn’t say anything for a bit. Neither do I, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. I should get to bed, but I’m not ready to hang up. Then I remember that I’m holding the cordless phone my parents gave me for Christmas, so I don’t have to be standing here in the chilly kitchen. I jog to my room and jump into bed. Frankie leaps up, yowling.
Will laughs. “What the heck was that?”
A blur of fur races by. “My cat. I think I sat on him.”
“Nice play, Shakespeare.”
“Ha.” I snuggle under the covers.
A few beats pass and then we both talk at the same time.
“I should let you go—”
“Well, I don’t want to keep you—”
He laughs. “I’ll see you. Soon.”
“Okay. Good night.” There’s a pout on my lips as I push the button to end the call. After tromping back to the kitchen to return the phone to its base, I squeeze my hands on both sides of my head. “Got to stay focused. Got to keep my eye on the ball.”
Later, after I put the vibrator through its paces, I fall asleep with a smile on my face, determined that the next time I have an orgasm, it won’t be a solo experience.
After all, research indicates that the ROI on sex with Will could be quite rewarding.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BEEP. Tuesday, 9:45 p.m.
Hey, Kate, it’s Will. Just letting you know I’m not actually working Wednesday at the bar but I do have rehearsal. Hopefully I’ll see you at the bar on Thursday or Friday? Or we can find time on the weekend. I was going to wait and tell you when I saw you, but guess what? I got that film job! It’s my first so I’m pretty excited. Anyway, just wanted to share the news. Hope I’ll see you Thursday.
BEEP. Wednesday, 5:38 p.m.
Hi, Will, it’s Kate. I just got your message now—I was asleep already when you called last night. I’m bummed! I was going to try and come tonight. And congratulations! That’s very exciting. Maybe you’ll end up a movie star after all. Okay, so, I’ll try to come to the bar tomorrow after work. I guess I’ll go for a run now or something… but… you don’t need to know that. Bye.
BEEP. Thursday, 9:47 p.m.
Kate! Hi, it’s Will. Sorry I’m shouting; it’s kinda loud in here. I guess you’re not coming to the bar. That’s okay. Hopefully, I’ll see you this weekend. Sorry I don’t have my schedule yet—they are promising it tomorrow. Or maybe you can come to the bar tomorrow? I can’t remember what you had Friday night. Anyway, maybe we can get together at some point. Uh, what? Oh. Sorry, Kate, gotta go.
BEEP. Friday, 8:15 a.m.
Will, it’s Kate. I’m sorry I didn’t make it last night. My boss dumped a project on my desk at four thirty yesterday and I had to get a report done by seven this morning. I was at work until midnight and when I got home I literally fell asleep in my clothes. Sorry! So… you’re probably not up yet but I guess we’ll talk later. Oh, wait—I can’t come to the bar tonight, sorry. I promised my neighbor I’d babysit. Dang it.
BEEP. Friday, 12:30 p.m.
Hi Kate, it’s Will. Bummed you can’t come tonight. I just got my schedule, and I am in rehearsal this entire weekend. I can’t believe it. I mean, I figured I’d have some rehearsal, and I don’t know why I’m called all day, but… so… let’s talk. Um, let me know when’s a good time to call, and maybe we can have a late dinner or breakfast or something.
KATE
When I get home Friday night after babysitting for my neighbor—I couldn’t say no because she’s been feeding Frankie for me when I’ve been out of town on work trips—it’s too late to get myself dolled up to go see Will at the bar. At this rate, it’ll be years before I see him again.
“Mrrrow.” Frankie jumps up on the hall table to greet me, pushing his head under my hand as I drop my keys and bag next to him.
“Hello, my sweet boy.” I kiss him on the nose. “At least you don’t have a crazy schedule. You are always available. Shall we go snuggle on the couch and watch—” I check the time. “Ugh. The news. Maybe I’ll read a book. But first, a glass of wine.”
When I open my fridge, a half bottle of white zinfandel makes me laugh. “How will I ever tell Will that I actually like this stuff?”
Scanning the kitchen counters for my book, I notice a blinking light on the answering machine and my heart skitters in anticipation. It’s a nice change of pace to be excited to listen to my messages.
BEEP. Friday, 6:25 p.m.
Hi Kate, it’s Mom. Just checking to make sure that you got the wedding invitation from your cousin and that you’ve got it on your calendar.
There’s a short pause. When she continues, her southern-accent-that-she-doesn’t-think-she-has deepens.
I don’t suppose you’ll be bringing a date, but if you’re planning to, please let us know and we’ll work out the sleeping arrangements. Okay. Love you, sweetheart. What? Oh, your dad says hi and wants you to call him about that stock—What was it, honey? I can’t understand you. Well, you call her then. Your father will call you over the weekend. Okaayy. Love you. Bye!
I slump to the living room. I’ve maybe been daydreaming about bringing Will to the wedding. Picturing us dancing the night away and him charming all my relatives. With the way things are going, though, that’ll likely remain a fantasy. Finally finding the paperback I started months ago under a pile of printouts on the coffee table, I flop onto the couch.
“Frankie!”
He chirps as he trots in. A less attractive noise escapes when he hauls himself up onto the couch. Just part of his charm.
Purring cat next to me, wineglass in one hand, juicy novel in the other. “This is the kind of Friday night I like best. Right, Frankie?”
Better than staying late at work, at least.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BEEP. SATURDAY, 6:47 a.m.
It’s Alice. I’m leaving my apartment right now. Promise. Okay, in five minutes. I’ll be there soon. I need a long run today, and I want to hear all about your boy!
KATE
In the final stretch of our run the next morning, Alice grabs my arm when we’re halfway down my block. “Hey.”
My stride falters. “What?” I ask, slowing to a walk. It’s about time for our cooldown, anyway.
“Someone’s on your doorstep. Is that Will?”
“He said he had rehearsal all weekend.” Squinting, I can just make out a figure that looks an awful lot like my favorite actor/bartender. “Maybe that changed.”
“Lucky you.”
I stop walking to wipe my face with my sleeve. “Too bad I’m disgusting right now.”
“Nah, you have a nice healthy glow.”
“Yeah, right.”
What would Will be doing here? Not that I mind. Though I kind of wish he’d disappear and come back after I’ve showered and changed into something nicer. Or at least clean.
Alice grabs my hand and pulls me behind a car. Peering around the side view mirror, she whispers, “He’s just as cute in person.”
“I know. What does he see in me?”
She ducks back down to poke me in the sternum. “You stop that right now,” she hisses. “You are a beautiful girl and a catch for any guy. Do you hear me?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I hear you.”
“I am serious,” she whispers. “You have got to stop second-guessing yourself. Jonathan was a complete asshole.”
I blink, a little taken aback. “Wow. I thought you were friends with him.”
“I was. Which is why I’m still so pissed off. He not only hurt you, he ruined a whole bunch of friendships.”
&nbs
p; “This isn’t just about Jonathan. Will works with drop-dead gorgeous women.”
“Well, it’s your stoop he’s sitting on right now.”
And there lies the mystery. I’m not even as good-looking as half the women in my office, especially the secretaries with their fabulous outfits, fluffy hair and flawless makeup. Nobody notices me. Which, truth be told, is what I’ve been going for. I just want people to see me as a smart, successful colleague.
The thing is, I think meeting Will has shifted something inside me. For the first time in a good long while, I actually want to feel pretty. When he looks at me a certain way, it seems he likes what he’s seeing. Still, I don’t quite trust it. Especially when my shirt’s sticking to my back and pits and my crotch is sweaty. Nobody finds that attractive.
Alice pokes me again, gentler this time. “How many dates have you had so far?”
“Um, it’s kind of hard to say. Two and a half?”
She smiles her wicked smile. “Good enough. As long as you use protection, I say you sleep with him. Today.”
“Really?”
“Why not? I mean, he’s an actor. It’s not like you’re gonna marry the guy.” She sneaks another peek. “Does he always wear a vest? He had one on in the commercial and he’s wearing one now.”
I pop my head up briefly. “Yeah, he said it’s like his lucky charm or something.”
“That tells you everything you need to know. He’s hoping to get lucky today.” She checks on him again before grabbing my hand. “He’s not looking. Let’s go.”
“Ugh, I’m stiff already.” Pushing off the side of the car, I stagger a bit as I stand. “No disappearing on me,” I say out of the side of my mouth as we step onto the sidewalk.
