After a while, Connor chuckled softly and kissed the top of my head. “Now you see what happens when you tease me all evening.”
“You started it.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Liar,” I said. “I’m not the one who started saying filthy things in the pub.”
“No, but you did show up wearing that damned skirt.”
I turned onto my stomach, propping myself up on my elbows. “So will this happen every time I wear it?”
He smiled and played with my hair. “It just might. Especially when you start talking dirty like you were.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.
“Just remember,” he said, “turnabout’s fair play.”
“That’s the whole idea, isn’t it?”
He laughed. “True, I guess it is.”
Conversation meandered from talk about our jobs to our families, just enjoying each other’s company. We switched effortlessly back and forth between insatiable lovers to something like friends. More than friends. Too intimate to be casual lovers, too passionate to be friends, and somewhere in that gray area was what we were and what we had no business being.
I pushed those thoughts out of my mind while our conversation wandered into his field of study.
He explained his master’s thesis in layman’s terms and told me a little more about the graduate program he was going into. Then he shrugged. “It’s not that exciting.”
“It sounds interesting. I mean, a lot of it’s Greek to me, but it must be fascinating to study.”
“It is. Like I said before, language is a powerful thing.” He paused, wetting his lips slowly. Then he looked at me. “You want to know what piqued my interest in it?”
“Poetry, wasn’t it?”
“Well, that caught my attention,” he said. “But what hooked me was a letter my sister wrote to me a few years ago.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “We had a falling out when we were teenagers. I mean, it was ugly. Drove a pretty big wedge into the middle of the whole family, even after I turned eighteen and moved out of the house.”
“It was that big of a feud? When you were kids?”
“It was pretty bad.” He turned onto his side, facing me and resting his hand on the small of my back. “Teenagers know everything and, well, we both knew everything there was to know about religion. Of course, we couldn’t both be right, and we were screaming at each other from polar opposite ends of the religious spectrum. She’s as stubborn as I am, so it just escalated until I moved out.” He sighed. “Anyway, we didn’t speak for a long time. During my second year of college, she wrote me this letter and more or less begged me for a ceasefire. Said we couldn’t both be right, but if there was one thing she couldn’t live with, it was knowing her brother hated her.”
“Did it work?”
He nodded. “We sent a few e-mails back and forth before we got the nerve to talk on the phone. When we saw each other face to face over the holidays, it wasn’t like nothing had ever happened, but it was better. A lot better.”
“How do you two get along now?” I asked.
“Just fine. We’re best friends now. And, well, it got me thinking. We’d torn ourselves apart with what? Words. Then we patched things up using the very same thing. That got me thinking even more, and I found out about the study of linguistics. When I got back to school after the holidays, I changed my major and that was that.”
“Wow,” I said. “The only thing I ever got out of sibling rivalry was a black eye.”
“A black eye? Are you serious?”
I laughed. “My sister and I fought like cats and dogs while we were growing up. When I was about fifteen, things finally just got out of control, and we got into a big fight. And I don’t mean a girly slap match. I mean a fistfight.” I shrugged. “When it was over, we each had a black eye and she had a split lip. Didn’t do much for her prom pictures the next weekend, but we stopped fighting after that.”
Connor chuckled. “How do you get along now?”
“Oh, same as you and your sister,” I said. “We’re best friends now. We talk on the phone constantly and she’s been begging me to come back to Wyoming. You’d never know we ever didn’t get along.”
“A little Wyoming diplomacy apparently goes a long way,” he laughed.
“Tomboy diplomacy is more like it.”
“You? A tomboy?” He chuckled. “Hardly.”
“Says the man who’s never seen me slinging hay bales or driving a tractor.”
His eyes lit up. “You know, I think you just got a hell of a lot sexier.”
I rolled my eyes. “You dirty bastard.”
“Damn right.” He leaned in to kiss me. “The perfect match for a dirty girl like you.”
“The perfect match, indeed.” I grinned into his kiss. Even as his kiss made me lightheaded, a thought wandered into my mind: I could get used to this.
When I broke the kiss, I met his eyes. Neither of us spoke, but I’d never been so blissfully relaxed and comfortable around someone as I was just then. I could get attached to this.
My blood turned to ice. I can’t get attached to this.
His fingertips trailed down the side of my neck and I shivered. I’m getting attached to this.
“You okay?” he asked.
“What?”
He played with my hair. “Looked like you were spacing out a bit. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, just thinking.”
“About?”
I could tell him. I could be honest and let him know the thoughts wandering through my head. But I hesitated. It would scare him off for sure. He’d think I wanted to get clingy.
Or worse, he’d feel the same, and the reality was that we couldn’t go there.
Instead, I grinned, pulled him closer, and said, “Just thinking about all the things I still want to do before we go to sleep.”
Chapter Sixteen
No matter how much we planned and organized things, horse shows always involved a certain level of chaos. If a schedule of all the classes and tests was carefully put together and posted, then tack and equipment would go missing. If all the tack and equipment was accounted for, at least one essential document would be missing for either a horse or rider. If all the paperwork was squared away, the schedule would fall to pieces and we’d all be scrambling to make our test times.
The three-day show on Whidbey Island was no exception, and as a bonus, Gavin was in rare form. More than once, Susan and I were sure the only solution was homicide, but somehow, all three of us survived the weekend.
We were finally on our way home. On the ferry, she and Leslie stayed down on the car deck to keep an eye on the horses in the trailer while I dragged my aching carcass to the main deck. I leaned on the railing outside.
The sun was going down and the wind blowing across Puget Sound was chilly, but it was nothing a zipped-up jacket and Connor’s arms around me couldn’t deflect.
He’d come up this morning to watch my last couple of tests, and just having him there had shaken some of the show-induced tension out of my shoulders. He had a calming effect on me like no one else, and while every inch of my body ached now, his touch was soothing and relaxing. I wondered how I’d have made it through this particular show without the spectacular back rub he’d given me between tests a few hours ago.
“Still sore?” He brushed some windswept hair out of my face.
“Probably will be for a day or two.” I shrugged. “Par for the course.”
“I’m sure.”
“So the show didn’t bore you to tears?”
He smiled. “Not in the least. I mean, I’m not going to pretend I had a clue what was going on half the time, but I got to watch you ride in those white breeches, so—”
I smacked him playfully and laughed.
“What can I say?” He grinned, running his hands over my hips. “They make your ass and legs look incredible.”
My face burned. “Co
nnor, my God,” I said, pretending to disapprove. “A soon-to-be master of linguistics, and you still resort to such crassness.”
“Yeah, and sometimes being crass gets the point across better than dressing it up in poetic bullshit. I mean, they did make your ass and legs—”
“Connor.”
“What?” He batted his eyes. Then he laughed and nuzzled my neck. The scuff of stubble above my collar made me shiver just before he whispered directly into my ear. “Listen, I may know all about the nuances and subtleties of the English language”—he flicked his tongue along the edge of my earlobe—“but I’m still a man, and you’re still a woman”—a gentle kiss on the side of my neck—“and I think I can be forgiven some crassness when I’ve just spent all afternoon wishing I could take you someplace and do things I can’t even put into words.”
The goose bumps on my neck had nothing to do with the chilly wind. I’d normally be too exhausted and sore for anything after a show, but if he kept talking like that, I was willing to consider making an exception. “Well, actions do speak louder than words.”
“They do,” he said. “So I figured when you’re feeling up to it again, I can put my crass, devious words into actions.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I.” He kissed me, drawing it out for a moment.
A quiet beep barely registered above the wind, but Connor jumped. He reached into his coat pocket and when he brought his phone out, the sound was louder, no longer muffled by fabric and leather. His eyebrows pulled together as he looked at the LCD screen. Then his expression suddenly shifted to one of irritation and he rolled his eyes.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” He added something else under his breath, but the wind carried it away. Then he pressed a button on the phone, shoved it back into his pocket, and when he looked at me again, the pleasant Connor from thirty seconds ago was back.
“Someone you don’t want to talk to?” I asked.
“It’s not you. So, yes, it’s someone I don’t want to talk to.”
“You’re such a charmer,” I laughed.
“Is it working?”
“Absolutely.”
He opened his mouth to speak, but the familiar muffled beep cut him off. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose when he pulled the phone out again.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered through his teeth.
“Persistent?”
He nodded. “Do you mind if I take this?” Resignation and annoyance tugged at his voice, but the look he gave me was nothing but apologetic.
“No, no, go ahead,” I said.
“Thanks.” He offered a quick smile. “Shouldn’t take long.” He stepped away and answered the phone. His back was to me while he spoke, and the wind made sure I heard none of it, but he obviously wasn’t happy. More than once, he shook his head or ran a hand through his wind-whipped hair. He paced. Paused. Paced again, making sharp gestures in the air that the person on the other end couldn’t see.
At one point, he rested his elbows on the railing and was still. He wasn’t speaking then, not even moving except his thumb and forefinger rubbing the bridge of his nose. All at once he came to life with a frustrated sweep of his arm and raised his voice just enough to let me hear the aggravation, but not the actual words.
A moment later, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and paused to take a deep breath before turning back to me.
“Sorry about that.” He looked flustered, though he tried to hide it behind a smile. There was a little bit of extra color in his cheeks, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the wind or the call.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Everything okay?”
He gestured dismissively. “Just some crap with—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
He chewed his lip and looked past me with unfocused eyes for a second before meeting mine. “Just, you know, some bullshit with my ex.” He shrugged. “I suppose I could just ignore her calls, but this saves me the trouble of deleting seventeen voice messages later.”
I blinked. “Are you—”
He laughed. “Okay, I’m exaggerating.” He wrapped his arms around me, and as he drew me close, brushed my hair out of my face. “Really, it’s nothing.” He kissed me lightly.
It puzzled me that she was calling so much and pestering him when she’d been the one to walk out. Maybe she regretted it. Maybe she was begging forgiveness. Without knowing the words to their angry song and dance, I couldn’t begin to speculate.
He offered only hints that her call had bothered him, shaking off most of his irritation and returning almost completely to the playful, flirty Connor he was before the phone rang. What that meant, I didn’t know. Susan had said he only allowed himself to be read as much as he wanted to be read, but the tension in his shoulders, the growl in his voice, and the occasional sharp breath gave away the presence of something beneath the surface.
Whatever it was, however it affected him, I was oddly comfortable with it all. No jealous insecurity. No concerns about another woman stepping into my territory. In fact, the idea of unfinished business between Connor and his ex-fiancée put me at ease in ways it wouldn’t have in another time and place.
Whatever had happened between them wasn’t over yet, so he was in no position to ask more of me than sex and friendship. They weren’t finished, so we couldn’t start. I could relax, let this be what it was, and know that when he left for California in a few months, he’d do so without some piece of me I wasn’t willing to give.
I let out a breath and let my guard down.
Chapter Seventeen
While I waited for Connor one night, my sister called.
“So how are things with the new man?” she asked after we’d made some small talk.
“Oh, okay.” I lay back on the couch and smiled up at the ceiling.
“Just okay?” Dishes clanked and water ran in the background. I imagined her elbows-deep in soapy water and holding her phone between her head and shoulder.
“Fine, it’s going great,” I said.
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“Funny thing, though, I don’t think he’s quite over his ex yet.”
“Oh?” she said. “How do you figure?” I could almost picture her raising an alarmed eyebrow.
“He hasn’t said a word about her, but he looked pretty pissed off when he was on the phone with her the other day.”
“Well, she’s his ex.” Dishes clattered on the other end. “I’d probably be pissed if my ex kept calling too.”
“So would I,” I said. “But, whatever the case, there’s obviously some unfinished business with them.”
Mary was quiet for a second. The clinking and clattering stopped, then resumed. “You don’t sound overly upset about this, Dan.”
“I’m not.” I shrugged, even though I knew she couldn’t see it. “It’s his business, not mine.”
“You know, most women would be annoyed if her man had ongoing shit with his ex.”
“Most women aren’t hoping for something temporary,” I said. “I don’t want a reason for either of us to get attached. And if his ex is still a problem, then that’s just one more reason for us not to get attached.”
She laughed. “Your mind must be a strange, strange place to live, Danielle.”
“Maybe so,” I said. “Look, I’m just trying to have a little fun and not get too involved with someone right away.”
“So you’ve said. I can see your point, but what if the two of you do start getting more involved?” she said. “Just because it’s not the right time or neither of you is ready for it doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”
“Either way, he’s leaving in August.”
“Just be careful,” she said. “I know you, hon. You fall hard, and I don’t want to see you fall flat on your face again.”
“I won’t, don’t worry.” I glanced at my watch. “Anyway, he’ll be here soon, so
I have to go.”
“Have fun,” she said. “But not too much fun.”
I giggled. “I fully intend to have—”
“Goodbye, Dan,” she said.
I laughed. “Bye, Mary”
Shortly after we hung up, Connor was at my door, and we left for dinner.
He took me out for Phở that night. I’d only had a passing acquaintance with Vietnamese food when I lived in Wyoming, but had developed a taste for it since coming to Seattle, which was blessed with dozens of such restaurants. Fortunately, Connor shared my addiction to it, so we found a tiny mom-and-pop place in the U-district.
When the steaming hot bowls of noodle soup were laid before us, he shot me a devilish grin.
“So, do you take it with or without the peppers and red sauce?” He gestured at various vegetables and condiments that came with our meal.
I shrugged with one shoulder. “Depends on what else I’m planning on doing with my mouth afterward.”
His eyebrows jumped. “Well, in that case, I think I’ll lay off the peppers myself.”
“Good man,” I said. “Actually, I like it as is. Too much hot sauce kills the flavor.”
“I’m with you on that,” he said. “Though every once in a while, I like it good and hot.”
“If I want hot, I’ll get Thai.”
“You like Thai?”
“Love it.”
“Good to know,” he said. “There’s a place about three blocks from my apartment that is to die for.”
I picked up some noodles with my chopsticks. “And why haven’t you taken me there yet?”
“Didn’t know you were into Thai, but I’ll certainly keep it in mind now.” He paused to take a drink. “Do you like Japanese?”
“I love Japanese,” I said. “Susan got me hooked on sushi. Blame her.”
“Ever had teppanyaki?”
I shook my head. “What’s that?”
“That’s where the chef cooks the food right in front of you on a big metal grill,” he said. “It’s half entertainment, half meal, and the food is fucking fantastic.”
World Enough and Time Page 10
