by Mona Kasten
To my relief, Maureen laughed heartily. And hugged me. Only after she released me did I see her daughter.
Hold on a second.
“Everly?”
“Oh, thank God! I was just about to freak out,” she said and practically leapt across the room to me. We hugged.
“Wait—you know each other?” Dad asked. He hadn’t sounded this nervous in ages.
“Yeah, we have a class together,” I said.
“What a small world.” Maureen looked back and forth between Everly and me.
“You have my blessing,” Everly announced.
When Maureen gave Dad a shy smile and he returned it, relieved, I instantly knew I was going to like her.
Over an Asian buffet, between wontons and duck tempura, I found out everything about Maureen and Everly. Maureen was working for a nonfiction publisher and Everly wanted to follow in her footsteps; like me, she wanted to write for a living. The conversation was easy and it felt as if we’d known each other for ages. Gradually, Dad also warmed up. He obviously wasn’t used to being with more than one woman at a time, but he did really well.
“I think they’re really into each other,” Everly whispered, as Dad and Maureen went to the buffet for refills.
“I’m glad. It’s been so long since Dad had a girlfriend. I even tried to find a date for him a couple of years ago. Not a good idea.”
Everly laughed. “Yeah, same here. It’d be great if they stayed together for a while.”
I returned her smile and looked back at Dad and Maureen, who were still in the buffet line. I was about to turn my attention back to Everly when something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A head of brown hair.
Everything in me froze, and my heart skipped a beat.
“Dawn? Are you okay?”
I barely heard Everly. My eyes were fixed on Rebecca. Rebecca, who was laughing heartily.
And then I saw Nate.
It felt like a punch in the stomach—painful, violent, and nauseating. All the air was knocked out of me, and breathing was impossible. Time stood still, like it had more than a year ago when I’d caught them together. And just like then, I couldn’t look away.
As if he had felt my gaze, he turned his head in my direction. His smile froze.
Instinctively, I slipped under the table, bumping my forehead in the process. For a moment I saw stars.
Shit. Damn, fucking shit.
“What’re you doing down there?” Everly hissed.
I was paralyzed by shock. Nate had spotted me. What if he came over?
It hurt so much to see him. To be in the same room with him. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out of here.
“I don’t know what happened. She just…” I heard Everly say to Dad.
Before I knew it, Dad had crawled under the table on all fours. Wide-eyed, I stared at him. Everything looked blurry and my head was throbbing like crazy.
“Dawny.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “Should we go home?”
I managed to nod. With Dad’s help I crawled out from under the table and paid no attention to what was around me, concentrating only on my footsteps, Dad’s arm on my shoulder, and the quick-witted Everly and Maureen, who’d gathered my stuff and followed us out.
All I could do after that was lie on my bed and stare at the ceiling. It was just after 8 p. m. when we returned from our catastrophic dinner out. I had excused myself from Everly and Maureen and then hid in my room, where for the last 15 minutes I’d been staring at my cell phone display. Spencer’s name cast a glow, and my finger hovered over the “call” button. On one hand I didn’t want to talk, but on the other hand I wanted to feel like myself again. My friends, and Spencer in particular, always made me feel better.
After taking a deep breath, I put my finger on the screen. His number rang for a while, and I was about to hang up when he answered.
“Hey,” he said breathless.
“Am I interrupting?” I asked immediately.
“No, I’m just out on a run. What’s up?”
Closing my eyes, I listened to his footsteps on the sidewalk.
“Nothing,” I said after a pause.
Now his steps stopped. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
“My dad introduced me to his new girlfriend today.”
“Ah… And?”
“She’s great. The funny thing is, her daughter, Everly is in the writing workshop with me.”
“What a coincidence!”
I took a deep breath. “I totally embarrassed myself today, Spence.”
He waited patiently for me to go on. It was something I really liked about him: He didn’t push. He gave me time. He always gave me time.
“We went out to dinner and… Rebecca and Nate were at the restaurant.”
He breathed in between his teeth. “Fuck.”
“Exactly. I freaked out and crawled under the table.”
Spencer cursed again.
“I totally embarrassed Dad,” I mumbled and stared at my other hand.
“I doubt that. Your father knows you, Dawn. He knows how hard the breakup was for you, even though you pretended everything was fine.” Spencer paused. “Can I tell you my honest opinion?”
“You should always be honest with me,” I encouraged him.
“Good. I think you should tell your dad the truth about what happened. It’s totally fucked up. You and your dad are so close. If you never tell him what has been bothering you so much this past year, this secret will be in your way, forever. And it doesn’t matter how it impacts his relationship to the Dursleys.”
“Duffys,” I corrected him after a pause.
“Whatever that motherfucker’s parents are called.”
Now I had to smile. “For some reason it’s kind of cute when you curse.”
“If that makes me even more irresistible to you, I’ll start doing it more often. How would you like it if I yelled out ‘asshole’ right now?”
I feigned a moan. “That would be totally hot.”
He yelled it so loud that my ear was ringing. “How was that?”
“I thought you were out on the street.”
“I am. One woman just fainted, a man just nearly ran me over, and all the children within a five-mile radius have just added a word to their growing vocabulary. Tonight their parents will come looking for me with torches and pitchforks.”
“What a hero.”
“I do what I can,” he replied, and I detected a grin in his tone. “When will you be back?”
“I wanted to come back tonight.”
“Should we meet up tomorrow?” Spencer asked.
My heart sped up. “Gladly.”
“Cool.”
“I agree.”
“If you’re okay with it, I’m going to keep running. The unconscious woman just passed me and I can’t bear the shame a second longer.”
“Sure. Sorry I kept you so long.”
“Cut the crap, Dawn. You can always call me if something’s on your mind. Or if you can’t sleep and feel like having noncommittal phone sex.”
I sat up with a start. “Spence!”
“Just saying.” He grinned.
Well, I couldn’t see him grin, but I could hear and somehow even feel it. A dangerous warmth spread through my chest and my heart made a strange leap.
“See you tomorrow, Sweetie.”
“Till then.”
Chapter 25
Dear Dawn,
I think you attached the wrong file to your email. Instead of sending me the assignment I gave you, you sent the first chapter of a romance novel. I doubt that was intended for me, am I right? Well, of course I looked at it briefly anyway. You have a real talent for exciting dialogue and tension between protagonists. Great! If you like, I’d also be happy to give yo
u more detailed feedback on the style and your narrative perspective. But I’d still like to get the correct document from you.
All the best,
Nolan
No. No, that couldn’t have happened!
Quickly, I clicked on my outbox and checked the message I’d sent to Nolan that morning.
Oh my God.
I’d actually sent him the first three chapters of About Us. And I’d sent my test reader Nolan’s homework assignment. Impossible, but true.
Could I please be struck by lightning right now? I pounded my forehead on the counter and cursed immediately because it hurt.
“What’s the problem now?” Sawyer asked, huffily.
I was visiting her at her new job at the steakhouse.
“I sent my professor the wrong attachment,” I explained.
“Naked photos?” Sawyer asked and started polishing one of the glasses on the sink.
No, not naked photos, but at least one sexy scene in which Tristan and Mackenzie had danced together rather erotically. And he had whispered suggestively in her ear.
Oh, God, I’d never be able to set foot in the writing workshop again, let alone in the university. I’d have to transfer. And move away. Probably to Portland, where I would run into Rebecca and Nate every single day.
“Aaargh.” Again I lowered my forehead to the counter.
“Don’t be that way,” Sawyer said. “Show me.”
Before I knew it, she had grabbed Watson and turned him around.
“Okay, now I understand how you feel. But on the other hand…” She scrolled through my draft, and I didn’t stop her.
By now I’d given up trying to stop her. So far she’d been really cool about the fact that I wrote erotic lit. She’d even read two of my novels and said one of my protagonists had really turned her on. It was one thing for me to read such reactions in reviews and messages online. In real life, hearing this made me turn bright red, despite the fact that I was actually pleased. Besides, I was getting really fond of Sawyer. She was better than okay.
“Look, there’s not even a sex scene in here, Dawn,” she said and pushed Watson back toward me. “Stop talking yourself into thinking that what you do is somehow dirty. If you keep on like this, I’ll hide raw eggs in your bed and photograph you secretly when you lie down on them.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning. “Okay. Sorry.”
She gave me a nod. “Next time just be careful what you send. Problem solved. Except… Is your professor hot?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Now Sawyer raised one eyebrow. “You have a lot to learn, Dawn. Seriously, you really shouldn’t have to ask such a question, as a sexually active person.”
I put my glass down on the bar. “Sexually active? How old are you, sixty?”
Sawyer grinned. “Aren’t you seeing Spencer later?”
In a flash I turned red. “We’re just cooking together.”
“Mhm. Cooking.” She tossed me another look that made my cheeks blaze even hotter.
“You’re impossible!”
“I hope you and your kitchen are ready for me!” I said as Spencer opened the door for me that afternoon.
He had on a white shirt that made him look tanned, and dark jeans covered with white smudges, which told me he’d been working on a sculpture. He looked me up and down, and when his eyes settled on the load of shopping bags in my hands, he gave me one of his big grins.
“What the…” He stepped aside and I headed past him, straight into the kitchen, where I set the bags on the counter.
Then I took off my jacket and hung it in the closet. By the time I got back, Spencer was already unloading the groceries.
“What are we making?”
“Pasta primavera” I said, standing next to him.
“That sounds kind of sexy.”
I looked at him sidelong. “What the hell is sexy about pasta primavera?”
He briefly glanced at me, then looked back into the shopping bag and smiled. “The way you say it. Pretty sexy.”
It was hard to come up with a good answer to that, so I just shook my head and placed the zucchini and eggplant in Spencer’s capable hands. I turned up the flame on a big pot of water and started chopping onions and garlic.
While the onions were browning in a frying pan, I stole a look over Spencer’s shoulder, or actually along his right arm. “Can you dice instead of slice?”
“Of course.”
Standing next to him now, I surveyed his earlier work. “And the eggplant a bit wider.”
He saluted me with the knife. “Yes, ma’am.”
Spencer was a very good sous-chef. He handed me the utensils I couldn’t reach and didn’t get in my way. Gradually I added ingredients to the sauce. I let the vegetables sauté, then tossed in the tomatoes. There were no spices—Spencer only had salt and pepper.
“Actually, we should be putting a whole bunch of different spices and fresh herbs in here,” I mumbled while tossing another pinch of salt in the pan.
“I’ll make sure to have a supply of fresh herbs and spices here from now on. In case you come by more often and feel the sudden need to abuse my kitchen,” he quipped.
“This stove is here to be used. We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”
I put the salt back in the cabinet and, standing on tiptoes, rummaged around in the little containers on the shelf. There was a small brown container with some tablets in it, but before I could grab it, Spencer’s arms were on either side of me, his hands pressed against the counter.
“Need help?” he asked, his breath tickling my neck.
The hairs on my arm rose up; everything in me felt charged with electricity. It was amazing how he could do that without even touching me.
“Spence.” My voice sounded breathless.
“Hm?” he murmured, this time closer to my ear. His lips brushed my throat.
“The sauce,” I croaked.
“Yeah.” He nibbled my skin, and I sighed. Then he sucked underneath my ear.
Oh my God.
“Stop.”
“Mhhh.”
“I came here to cook with you, not to be distracted by you.”
His smile tickled my throat. “But I like to distract you.”
I turned to face him. He still held me trapped between his arms. His eyes were dark and I recognized the glowing desire in them.
“Don’t look at me that way,” I whispered.
His mouth twitched and he closed his eyes. “Okay.”
He stroked my sides and let his thumbs run across my ribs just under my breasts. He leaned forward and pressed his entire body against mine.
Sauce or Spencer, what should it be? Spencer or sauce? Feeling his body against mine, I started to melt. And the decision was not so difficult after all.
I raised myself on my toes to meet his lips and opened my mouth to deepen our kiss. Spencer curled one hand around the back of my neck and pulled me closer; his tongue slid into my mouth and rubbed against mine. A shower of sparks enveloped me and he caught my sigh in his lips. It was as if he held all my senses in his hands. He could do whatever he wanted with me—I wasn’t capable of resisting.
With one hand behind my neck, Spencer placed his other hand on my lower back and held me tight. Heat spread through my body, and with it a tingling from head to toe.
Panting, he detached himself from me but only molecules separated us. He kissed a trail along my jawline. I savored his touch until the suspicious smell of something burning hit my nose.
“Oh, shit!” I tore myself away from Spencer and rushed to the stove, turning it off and lifting the pan from the burner. I stirred the sauce and assessed the damage: Luckily, only a few veggies had burned. I spooned the rest of the sauce into a bowl while Spencer drained the
noodles. He insisted that we hadn’t ruined the meal, and tried to reassure me.
This time we ate at the table instead of our usual spot on the sofa.
“Heavenly. Just heavenly,” Spencer said, his mouth full. He pointed his fork at me: “You’re a total goddess, Dawn Edwards.”
We talked about the university and our courses. Spencer said he wanted to go hiking again this summer with Kaden. But a real camping trip this time, with a tent.
After dinner we cleared the table together. But Spencer wouldn’t let me near the sink. “Whoever cooks doesn’t clean. Just keep me company.”
That was a rule I could live with. I told him about Nolan and the wrong attachment, even though I had to bury my hot face in my hands, and Spencer laughed so hard he splashed his shirt with the scrubbing brush. He wanted to know exactly what Nolan had written and didn’t stop teasing me until I’d dug my cell phone out of my pocket to read his email out loud.
But when I opened my email, I was distracted by several new messages. Including a review that I couldn’t resist opening, curious as ever.
Bad decision. The first line made my heart sink.
I should’ve turned the phone off and forgotten about the nasty words on the screen. But it didn’t work. I was frozen in place, my eyes fixed on the display.
“What’s up?” Spencer asked, frowning.
A few deep breaths helped slow my pulse. “Oh, nothing really. Just a bad review. That’s all.”
“How bad?” He leaned over and pulled my phone toward him so he could read.
“Bordering on assault,” he murmured in a monotone. “Stupid… trashy literature… buyer beware.” Spencer paused and stared at the display. He swallowed several times. His whole body seemed tense.
Then he strode out of the kitchen without a word.
“Spence?”
He just looked back over his shoulder and beckoned me to follow. Taking the steps two at a time, he headed upstairs to his bedroom, where he dropped down on his desk chair and turned on his computer.
Confused, I stood in the doorway. “What are we doing here?”
Spencer waved me over without looking up. “C’mere.”
Slowly, I crossed the room to his desk. The last time I’d been up here I only saw Spencer, not the decor. Like the rest of his house, this room looked as if an interior designer had been given free reign: smoky blue walls, olive green curtains, and a sandy-colored rug on the dark wood floor.
