Everybody's Hero

by Karen Templeton

  Of course, she had no clue what was going through his mind, she pondered as she went through the living room and into the kitchen, turning on lights along the way. Then she looked over at him, leaning in her kitchen doorway with one hand tucked in his front pocket and fairly radiating carnal thoughts, and she thought, Who am I kidding?

  "I'm starving," she said, finding herself dragging out a baking pan and the fixings for corn bread. "How about you?"

  Joe got a funny tilted smile on his face. "That wouldn't be you sidestepping the issue, would it?"

  "And what issue might that be?" she asked, goading him. At his raised eyebrow, she said, "Ohhhh…I suppose you mean whether or not we have sex tonight?"

  "That would be the one, yep."

  Taylor stooped down in front of a lower cabinet to get out plastic bins of flour and cornmeal that she used on rare occasion, hauling them up onto her counter. "No, that would be me being hungry and having a sudden craving for corn bread." She scanned the recipe she kept inside the cornmeal bin, then went about gathering the oil and baking powder and eggs and what-all as if she actually knew what she was doing, all the while aware of Joe's inordinately curious stare from a few feet away. "Do you like corn bread?" she asked, fully aware she hadn't yet answered his question.

  "Who doesn't?"

  "Well, that would be my take on it, but you'd be surprised at the number of people who do not, in fact, like it at all." She started measuring and tossing ingredients into a big glass bowl, cracking an egg on its edge. "But I've loved it ever since I was little and Mama used to make it every single Sunday." A knot formed in the center of her chest as the freed egg slithered down the side of the bowl, settling onto the dry ingredients, bumped from behind by a second egg like kids on a Slip 'N Slide too impatient to wait their turns. "'Course," she said, taking a fork to the mixture and mushing it all together, "it's been a long time since Mama made corn bread. Or anything else. All the cooks and maids we had, and not a single one of them knew how to make corn bread, do you believe it?"

  The tears came out of nowhere, and for no good reason that she could tell. But when Joe took her by the shoulders and turned her around, enfolding her in his arms with his chin resting atop her head, she was not about to protest. She cried for a minute or so, then slid a hand over her cheek and mumbled, "I don't know what's wrong with me tonight," and he said, "Nothing's wrong with you," his voice all rumbly underneath her ear. She sighed and snuggled closer, smelling him and feeling him and wishing…

  No, not wishing for anything. Just enjoying the moment. Then she leaned back to look up at him, sniffling a little, her fingers curled around the soft folds of his shirt, and said, "I'm not sidestepping anything. I definitely want sex. With you," she added, blushing a little. "But not until I've had at least three pieces of corn bread."

  His mouth stretched into one of those smiles a woman knows is meant only for her, that makes her brain take a hike, and he slowly forked one hand through her hair, making her scalp sizzle and everything else snap to attention. Then he dropped a kiss on the top of her head and whispered, "Deal," and the word life-altering came to her.

  Taylor pulled away to finish up getting the corn bread batter into the pan and then put it in the oven, setting the timer for twenty-five minutes. When she turned around, Joe was leaning against the fridge, hands shoved into his front pockets, flat-out gaping at her. With anyone else, she might have felt self-conscious, but not with Joe. At least, not anymore.

  Self-conscious, no. Steamy, however…hooboy. She pushed up the kitchen window a little higher, then opened the kitchen door. A moth fluttered in and started pinging around the overhead light, casting spooky, darting shadows over the room.

  "Is it my imagination," she said, "or are you picturing me nekkid?"

  "Actually," he said, his gaze roaming where it would, "I'm picturing you in an apron."

  "Let me guess. And nothing else, right?"

  He grinned. "Can't get anything past you."

  "Well, I hate to break this to you, but I don't do the role-playing thang."

  "Party pooper."

  "Whatever." She reached into the cabinet to get out two glasses. "Actually, I tried it once, with my husband when we were first married." Toting the glasses to the table, she shook her head. "I just felt silly. Not exactly conducive to getting in the mood."

  "Unlike watching a naked man chasing a dog with condoms in its mouth."

  "Exactly."

  "Like I said. Strange."

  "Aw…bet you say that to all the girls."

  "No, ma'am. Since I've never met anybody as strange as you."

  "Boy. You really don't get out much, do you?" she said, and he got this funny look on his face, after which he pushed himself away from the fridge and walked out into her living room. Taylor followed to find him looking at the framed family photos she'd put up on the far wall.

  "Mom and Dad, when they were first married," she said, pointing to each one in turn. "Then later, when I was about six. My sister Erika with her husband and kids. And that's Abby, the 'baby,' with her husband."

  His gaze swung back to the more recent photo of her parents. "I see where the red hair came from."

  "Daddy's hair started going gray shortly after that. I don't really remember him with red hair."

  Joe looked at her. "You loved him, didn't you?"

  "I adored him."

  He slung one arm around her shoulders and led her back to sit on the sofa. He propped one foot on her coffee table, positioning her so her back nestled against his side.

  "So tell me about him," he said.

  "You don't really want to hear about any of that."

  "I'm not asking to be polite, I'm asking because I'm nosy."

  She laughed. And started talking.

  By the time the corn bread scent filtered in from the kitchen, she'd told him about how her father had gotten screwed over by his business partner when she and her sisters were still small, how he'd determined to start over, bounce back.

  "And did he?"

  "Yep. By the time I was eight or so, we had the big house in Houston, the pool, the new cars every two years, the whole nine yards. We just didn't have Daddy." The oven buzzer went off; she reluctantly untangled herself from his arm, draped across her front, and scurried into the kitchen to get the corn bread. Over-baked corn bread was the pits.

  "Smells great," Joe said, coming in behind her.

  "You want milk?"

  "What else?" he said, his face falling when he pulled the carton of skim milk out of the refrigerator. But he gamely carried it to the table, only to laugh when she unwrapped a stick of real butter and plonked it on a butter dish. "Real butter, but skim milk?"

  "It's a girl thing," she said, setting the hot corn bread on a trivet in the center of the table.

  "Huh. Maybe I could stir some butter in the milk and make it taste like milk again."

  "Whatever floats your boat." She set two plates on the table and started cutting the steaming bread. "Anyway, to continue the saga of Taylor's dysfunctional childhood…after my father died, the family totally fell apart. Or should I say more apart. We all lived in the same house, but that was about it." She lifted out a square of corn bread, setting it on Joe's plate.

  He sliced his bread in half, then slipped in a pat of butter. "And now?"

  "Now I talk to their voice mail a lot," she said brightly, buttering her own bread.

  "That sucks."

  "Pretty much my take on it, yeah. What's wrong?" she said as Joe groaned.

  "Only that this is the best damn corn bread I've ever had."

  "Yeah?" she said, beaming.

  "Yeah." He took another crumbly bite, wiping his hand on a napkin, then locked their gazes. "Now tell me about your ex."

  Taylor shrugged. "Not a whole lot to tell. I married a man who I guess reminded me of Dad. You know, driven to succeed and all that fun stuff. But after six months, I wondered why I'd bothered. Or why he had. I figured it was time to get a divorce
when I realized cobwebs were collecting on his side of the bed. Not to mention—" she took a sip of milk "—in certain parts of my anatomy."

  She somehow didn't think Joe's choking on his milk was entirely due to its low fat content. When he recovered, he said, "Did you love him?"

  That was worth a moment's reflection. "I was dazzled by him. By his energy and focus. But love?" She shook her head. "I was never much into the whole long-suffering wifey thing. So what about you?" she said, licking buttery crumbs off her fingers.

  "You mean girlfriends?"

  "Or wives, whatever."

  He glanced down, his mouth twitching. "No wives. And no one I'd call a real girlfriend. There've been lovers, though."

  "Well, duh. Anyone serious?"

  "Not really, no." Amazing, the loneliness packed in those three little words.

  "Anyone recent?" she asked, even though she knew better.

  "One," he said, taking another bite of corn bread.

  Great. Now she had to deal with the post-nasal drip sensation of jealousy trickling through her. "Yeah? How recent are we talking? Exactly."

  Joe grinned into her eyes, his own darkening with intent. "Ten days."

  She threw a greasy, balled up napkin at him, which landed in his plate. He laughed. And started to unbutton his shirt. Right at her kitchen table. She stared, fascinated, as the words, "You done with your corn bread?" dimly registered in her hormone-drunk brain.

  "Mmm-hmm," she managed.

  "Good," he said, tossing his shirt…somewhere. Then he stood, planted his hands on the table, and leaned over to lick a corn bread crumb from the corner of her mouth, which led her to seriously rethink the whole apron fantasy thing.

  * * *

  Seth woke up with a start, confused for a couple seconds until he remembered where he was. Yawning, he pushed back the light blanket somebody'd put on top of him and got up, padding out to the living room in his bare feet. From behind the closed door to the other bedroom, he could hear Kristen snoring. Joe's mom was sitting up on the pulled out sofa bed, watching TV in a short-sleeved robe with little pink flowers all over it. She jerked a little when she realized he was standing there, then smiled at him. "Hey, chico…how come you're awake?"

  He shrugged, still half asleep. "Where's Joe?"

  "Oh, he called after you'd fallen asleep, so I told him just to let you stay here. You want something to eat?"

  Seth shook his head, then remembered why he was there to begin with. Almost afraid to hear the answer, he asked, "Is Oakley okay?"

  "The dog? Yes, they think he'll be fine. Something about a tick poisoning him, can you believe it?" Seth shook his head, even though he didn't think she really expected him to answer her. "Anyway, Joe said they were keeping him overnight at the vet's, just as a precaution. So I'm taking you to camp tomorrow. You and Kristen, actually, since Taylor said it was okay for her to come visit."

  Although Seth was glad Oakley was going to be all right, he still got a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, like something was out of whack but he couldn't quite figure out what. Part of it had to do with Kristen coming to day camp, because he didn't know if that meant he had to watch out for her while she was there or what, but that wasn't all of it.

  "So where's Joe? Is he still with Taylor?"

  Joe's mom looked back at the TV. One of those boring old movies in black-and-white, it looked like. "They got back from the vet's a long time ago," she said, like he wouldn't know she hadn't answered the question.

  "So how come he didn't come get me?"

  "I told you," Dani said, facing him again, "you were already asleep. Which you need to be again or you'll be all draggy tomorrow, and you don't want that, do you? So come on," she said, pushing herself off the bed. "Let's get you tucked in again, okay?" She waved to him, clearly expecting him to follow, so he did. This time, she pulled back the bedspread and suggested he take off his T-shirt and shorts so she could wash them for the next day in the little washing machine in the bathroom. So he did—underneath the sheets, so she wouldn't see—and handed them to her. Then she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, like his mother used to do, and left him.

  All he had to say was, the inside of his head felt like a bunch of Legos without the instructions—no matter how hard he tried to put the pieces together, they just would not go.

  * * *

  The first Joe was aware of the phone ringing was when his skin suddenly cooled from where a warm, naked woman had been a second before. Vaguely thinking Come back, he opened one eye to register that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, all luminescent bare back and lush bottom. As his brain cells began to slowly regenerate, he took in the odd sensory impression—rumpled, soft sheets smelling of sex, Taylor's sleep-roughened voice, a glint of light in her tangled hair. He rolled over to press a kiss at the base of her spine, making her voice hitch. She twisted around, grinning; light leaking in from the living room glanced off the curve of one breast, highlighting an already hardening nipple. His mouth said, "Gimme," as tenderness roared through him.

  He was a goner.

  And not because of the sex, even though there was nothing to complain about in that department. Because…because when they were together, all he could think was, Oh, yeah. And because she got him. Understood him. Because—he thought back to her comment about Kirsten in the car—he knew he could bare his soul to her without fear of her somehow using it against him. Even though they still hardly knew each other, he'd already grown to trust Taylor more than he trusted himself.

  And if that wasn't confusing the hell out of him, he didn't know what was.

  "Yes, Dr. Harrison," he heard her say, relief shining in her voice, "I'll come get him around lunchtime, if that's okay…. Thanks so much!" She clicked off the phone and set it back in its stand; Joe tugged her back against his chest. "Oakley's okay," she said, her hair tickling his nose.

  "I knew he would be," he said, then flipped her on her back, nestling between her warm, blessedly receptive thighs. Someone should write a sonnet about these thighs, he thought, only what he said was, "I think this calls for a little celebration, don't you?"

  "No arguments here."

  "No cobwebs, either," he murmured, and she laughed. But when she reached for him, he grabbed her wrist. "Not so fast. I've got plans for you."

  "Plans are good," she said, shutting her eyes, then giggling as he nuzzled her neck. Then he kissed the base of her throat, before moving to her breast. "I especially like those plans," she whispered as his mouth closed around that cute little nipple.

  "Yeah, me, too," he said, and she said something about not talking with his mouth full, so he decided to stop talking—since he wasn't much into multitasking, anyway—and concentrate on suckling. Which, judging from her whimpering and arching and moans, was an inspired move on his part.

  "More…" she said, and he said, "Not to worry," and shifted to the other breast where he tugged and nipped and messed around until she bucked underneath him.

  "If you touch me, I'll…"

  "…scream?" he said, reaching between her legs, smiling when they fell right open. Never one to turn down an invitation, Joe let his fingers do the…walking, her slickness inciting a riot in his groin as he dawdled here and lingered there until he heard her gasp.

  Now, bringing her to climax at this point would have been a no-brainer, since he figured she was about a millisecond away. But Joe wanted more, wanted to give her more, wanted to do something for her he'd never been much inclined to do for another woman. But first he was going to confuse her a little, because a confused Taylor was truly a joy to behold.

  So he raised up to kiss her on the mouth, his hands cradling her face, letting his lips and tongue convey all the stuff in his head he wasn't sure he could put into words. And sure enough, when he lifted up to look into her eyes, she was one confused chick.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, breathing kinda heavy.

  Joe just grinned.

  He grabbed a condom, watc
hing her watch him as he rolled it on, then began a leisurely stroll down her body, revisiting her breasts for a few seconds because it seemed a shame to bypass them when there they were, just begging for a little attention, before continuing south over her belly, her hips, that delectable spot where her smooth skin gave way to soft, warm curls. It was long about this point that she apparently caught on to his intentions because she made a funny little noise in her throat.

  "Open for me," he whispered.

  She made another funny little noise and said, "Are you sure?"

  "Well, since I'm in the neighborhood and all, I thought it might be fun."

  He thought she might have muttered "Thank you," but he wasn't all that sure she was thanking him.

  Not that he cared.

  What he cared about, he thought as he kissed her where she was hottest, was making her as happy as he could, for as long as he could. Not that this was a chore, by any means—she smelled of some girly soap and sex and woman and damn, he was having a good time, nibbling and nuzzling her up…up…up…until she spasmed under him on a high, thin cry.

  He rose up and plunged inside her, catching her orgasm on its descent and yanking it up again on the current of his own release, startling an "Ooooohhhh!" from her mouth, so close to his ear, even closer to his heart, pounding an inch from hers.

  Afterwards, they lay panting in each other's arms, still joined. Then he heard the muffled giggle in his ear.

  "You're just full of surprises, aren'tcha?" she said.

  Joe hefted himself to his elbows to smile into her eyes. And kiss a nipple while he was at it. "Is this a bad thing?"

  "No-no-no, not at all. But damn, you're gonna spoil me."

  "You deserve to be spoiled," he said.

  Too many seconds passed before she whispered, "So do you," and he thought, Yep. Total goner.

  Chapter 15

  Mary-Jo, Wes's secretary, was on the phone when Joe got to the office the next day, but she smiled for him anyway, yanking open her middle desk drawer to get his pay envelope. By the time Joe pocketed it, though, she was done with her call and was in the mood to chat. She asked about his mother and sister and how work was going on the two projects, the way she always did. Except anybody with half a brain could hear the worry fringing her words. Before he had a chance to ask her if everything was okay, she said, "You talk to Wes lately?"