“Okay, bad examples, but to answer your question, yes.”
“Are you only saying yes because I’m standing in front of you right now?”
He was probably right, but it would be cruel to admit. “Maybe.”
His eyes squinted into tiny slits, and he exhaled through his nose.
I was mad at him, scared of him, and desperately wanted to crawl inside of him and never leave.
Instead, I stared at him.
Nothing says, “I love you and missed you more than air,” like a good, old-fashioned staring contest.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” He gave me his signature shy smile and heaven help me, I smiled back. The dimple demanded submission. “We’re not finished with our conversation. Don’t think your thank you makes everything better.”
“I—”
Kai cut me off. “Gil and Maggie are outside.”
I wanted to apologize for being a bitch, but I wasn’t planning to do it in front of those two. While Gil drove us to my house, Kai sat with me, keeping to his side of the backseat, but sneaking glances in my direction. I knew he snuck glances, because I caught him when I did the same. We still hadn’t touched. Not a hug or a hand on the back or a brush of our thighs. Nothing.
It was maddening.
Maybe I repulsed him. I surreptitiously sniffed myself by turning toward the window and inhaling.
I smelled of plane and the smoky, spicy scent of Ghana.
Puddles of cold rain reflected Portland’s twinkling lights shimmering on the wet road. Foreign and overwhelming, home greeted me the best way possible—with rain and cold.
Everyone piled out of Gil’s car when we arrived at my darkened bungalow.
“What happened to Nicole?” Six months was a long time to be away and Nicole, a fellow professor, agreed to house sit. “She agreed to stay until Christmas break.”
“She and the husband reconciled,” Gil informed me. “When I called her last week to tell her you’d be coming home early, it wasn’t an issue for her to move out. Apparently, they’d returned her things to their house over Thanksgiving.”
The four of us walked up the steps to my front porch. I glanced around at my vintage patio set and porch swing—simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar. Everything looked exactly as it had when I left.
Everything was the same.
But I wasn’t.
I gave Kai sidelong looks while Gil opened the door to my house.
In what world would Kai Hendriks be walking into my little Craftsman bungalow?
Not any world I imagined. Or dared to let myself.
Standing a little bit to the side of the three of us crowded at the door, Kai shifted from foot to foot.
Maybe he needed to pee.
He caught me staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing.” I glanced away.
He sighed and straightened his shoulders. “I should go back to the hotel.”
“Nonsense,” Maggie said.
I shot her a look.
“Selah, invite him inside,” she encouraged.
“Kai, would you like to come inside?”
He arched his eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” He stared at me, his eyes a mix of emotions.
“Too late.”
“Selah!” Maggie scolded me.
“Kai, please come inside my house.” I sarcastically grinned at Maggie.
“Is rude behavior a side effect of malaria?” she asked Kai.
He chuckled and shook his head. “None I’ve ever seen.”
“Could it be a drug reaction?”
“Could, but I think it’s Selah being Selah.” He stepped away and smiled at me.
I sighed and ignored them, walking into my house. “When you two are done, wipe off your shoes before you come inside.”
“That’s what she said,” Gil joked, laughing at himself. Maggie rolled her eyes.
I groaned. “Seriously? Does anyone still say that?”
A pair of table lamps lit the space, giving my entry and living room a warm glow.
Hello, house.
Inhaling, I smelled the familiar scents of home, dusty books, and cleaning supplies. Everything smelled overly antiseptic. Yesterday I was in Ghana. Now the past six months felt like another life. Or a dream.
It wasn’t a dream because Kai stood in my living room, observing me and my life before him. Through an arch sat a brown leather couch where I graded papers and wrote under the patchwork throw laid on the arm. Bookshelves filled with art books and novels lined an entire wall opposite the couch. A mossy green upholstered chair sat by a bronze floor lamp in my reading nook.
Kai peered into the dining room and the kitchen beyond. My three small bedrooms were up the stairs behind me.
“Your home is lovely. Very you,” Kai politely complimented me.
“Thank you. I’d be polite,” I stared at Maggie, “and offer you something to drink, but I don’t know what I have. Tap water?”
“I’m fine.”
Gil cut through the awkward by asking Kai to help him with my luggage. After a discussion of where it would go—the guest room—and their schlepping everything upstairs, there wasn’t anything left to do but stand there and be uncomfortable.
“Well …” I said.
“We should let you rest. It’s late. Or early for you. You must be exhausted,” Maggie said.
I had no idea if Kai was supposed to remain behind or would leave with them. I looked around at their faces, then yawned.
“We’ll let you sleep, love.” Perhaps afraid I’d spook and trample him, Kai approached me slowly, the same way we did with the elephants. My mind tried to argue, but my body leaned into his open arms and melted into his hug. “We’ll finish our earlier conversation tomorrow morning,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.
The house smelled unfamiliar, but Kai didn’t. His spicy warmth surrounded me and I inhaled deeply. His arms tightened around me for a brief second when he kissed my hair.
I stumbled, off balance and unsteady, when he pulled away.
I blamed the malaria and jet lag, but in reality, my body missed him.
My heart missed him more.
JET LAG SUCKED.
I fell asleep almost immediately after Kai and the Meddlers left. Thinking of climbing the stairs exhausted me, so I lay down on the couch to work up some energy.
Several hours later I awoke to the glow of the table lamps and smell of clean. It took a moment or two for my brain to process my location.
Home.
My clothes smelled of Ghana, but I was home in Portland.
Alone.
Maybe the whole thing had been a dream. Gil was the scarecrow. Maggie was the good witch. There was no heartless Tin Man or lying Wizard to be found.
I grabbed my purse and carried it upstairs. On the bench at the end of my bed, I dumped out its contents. After locating what I sought, I placed the little elephant on my nightstand.
I stripped out of my travel clothes, put on my favorite pajamas, and crawled under the duvet.
I could have slept for days, but knocking on my front door woke me only a short while later. Or maybe it had been hours. The gray sky outside concealed the time of day.
“Go away!” I shouted from my bedroom.
The knocking continued, and transformed into pounding.
I sighed and grabbed my favorite red silk robe. It smelled of soap and my old life.
“I’m coming,” I called from the stairs. The knocking ceased.
“If you’re a Jehovah’s Witness, leave now.” I peeped through the hole in the door.
There stood Kai, holding coffee cups and a paper bag.
“You’re very persistent,” I said after I opened the door.
He smiled in response. “Glad you’re beginning to pick up on that.”
I crossed my arms. “Why are you here so early?”
“It’s almost eleven. And I brought you coffee.” He held up one of the c
ups. “Large raspberry mocha.”
The cup almost fell to the floor with how quickly I grabbed it from his hands. “Gimme.”
He licked a spot of spilled foam from the side of his thumb. “And if you weren’t in the mood for sweet, there’s a large latte, extra shot, with skim milk.”
“Gimme.” I took that cup, too. “What’s in the bag?”
“Can I come inside?”
“If it’s food, yes.”
“It is, but I’m not telling you until I’m inside.”
“Fine.” I grinned at him. “Entré!” I swept my hand to the side.
“You look beautiful in red. You wore red the night we met.”
I blushed. “Thank you.” I looked down to make sure I wasn’t giving him a free show. Nope. My robe and pajamas covered me beyond modesty. Sexy? Not sexy.
I led the way into the kitchen and put the coffees on the table after sipping from both.
“Mmmm, good.” I licked some foam from the corner of my lips. “Explain to me how the land of cocoa and amazing chocolate doesn’t have decent coffee.”
“Blame the British and their tea.”
“I will. Think about the perfection of chocolate and coffee. They would rule the world.”
Kai sat in one of the kitchen chairs, completely comfortable.
He looked like he belonged at my table, in my kitchen, in my home—in my life.
Shaking away any images of him doing naughty things to me on said table, I reached for the bag filled with croissants and pain au chocolat. “Sweet heaven. What sort of evil are you conjuring?”
He laughed, then opened the lid of the latte and sipped. “No evil. I figured you would wake eventually and probably wouldn’t be able to function without coffee. You talked about it enough times when we were together, I knew your favorites. The pastries are only the beginning. I have groceries in the car.”
“Car?”
“I rented a car.”
“Groceries and a car? Do you plan to stay in Portland a while?” I asked, pretending my heart wasn’t pounding away in my chest.
“Maybe. Things aren’t one-hundred-percent right now, but I’m optimistic.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really?”
He nodded and drank from his cup.
“Interesting. But just so you know, I plan on eating both the pain au chocolat.”
“I figured.” His dimple showed. “I ate mine on the drive.”
“Clever man,” I mumbled around the flaky, buttery mouthful of pastry.
After breakfast, I napped on the couch while Kai rummaged through my drawers. He said he put away groceries and then sat in the armchair and read the paper, but I didn’t believe him.
He didn’t leave.
I didn’t ask him to go.
AT SOME POINT in a relationship, if that was what this was, swooning and palpitations at the sight of each other turned to comfort and vague reminders of what once had been a throbbing desire.
Throbbing desire. I made a note to use it in my next book.
For me, swooning and palpitations could be blamed on malaria. Or at least the residual medications and “possible neurological complications”. Or so I told myself until Kai showed up Saturday for Maggie and Gil’s holiday party. Somewhere along the way, my friends had turned into that couple who hosted themed parties. They insisted everyone dress in “festive wear” aka holiday sweaters. Not since Mark Darcy wore his reindeer jumper had my little black heart swooned over a man in ridiculous clothing.
Kai could wear wooden shoes, and I would probably swoon.
Images of him in eyeliner and my scarf flickered through my mind.
“Mmmm,” I said.
“Mmmm what?” Kai asked.
“I spoke out loud?”
“Moaned out loud, but yes.” He smirked. “I take it you like what you see?”
“Sure. Of course. Who doesn’t love Christmas attire?”
“I’m especially fond of yours.” He gestured to my chest where moose and deer fornicated in a red and white Fair Isle pattern picked out by Maggie.
“Big fan of moose sex?” I gave him a sidelong glance, grabbing my coat and bag.
“No, but I love where it focuses the eye. I’m a big fan of that area.”
I coughed to draw his eyes away from my breasts. “Can we leave now?”
“After you.” He swept his arm in front of the door and took my coat to hold out for me.
“I see your chivalry, Mr. Hendriks.”
“Good. It’s all part of my master plan.”
“And what would that be?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“Sounds like a plan of evil.”
“Maybe. Ready?” He held out his arm. “I hope there’s mistletoe at their party.”
“Part of the plan?”
“Of course.”
At the party, he managed to corner me under the mistletoe four times. After kissing him chastely, he and Maggie giggled while I attempted to jump high enough to rip the vile greenery from its ribbon.
“I think the lady doth protest too much,” she said, shooing me into the kitchen. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you need to get laid.”
“My how the tables have turned, haven’t they?” I lifted my eyebrows. I’d said the same words to her over a year ago. “That’s beside the point. Mistletoe kisses do not count as real kisses. For one, there’s questionable forced consent.” I stared at her smiling face. “Second, anyone can kiss you. Did you miss me dodging Elbow Patches Peterson with a cheek?”
“Who knew they still sold Aqua Velva?” Her giggles turned to guffaws.
“Aqua Velva sounds too close to Aqua Vulva, which is all sorts of wrong.” I joined her giggling.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she focused on filling a tray with macarons and petit fours.
I stole a tiny cake from the tray and escaped across the kitchen to avoid her wrath. “Who serves petit fours outside of a tea room?” Delicious cake muffled my voice.
“I’ve been experimenting with a French baking book.” She watched me lick my fingers. “You approve?”
I nodded and tried to sneak around her to grab a cookie.
Unfortunately, she shielded the tray from my grabby fingers. “These are for guests.”
“I’m a guest. Look, ugly sweater and everything.” I stuck out my chest. “You picked it out, and I’m such a good guest I wore it. Plus, I could have died recently. How sad would it be if you stood here alone, crying over the fact I never tasted your homemade macarons?” I batted my eyelashes at her.
“You didn’t almost die.”
“We don’t know for certain.” I pouted out my bottom lip.
“Okay, you win.” She handed me a red cookie. “Have the raspberry.”
“Mmmm …” I moaned.
“What are you moaning about now?” Kai’s voice came from behind me. “You’ve been doing a lot of that tonight.”
Instead of answering him, I swiped another cookie and held it up to his mouth. “Eat me.”
A wicked smile crossed his face. “I thought you’d never ask.” He opened his mouth and held out the tip of his tongue.
The moan was soft, and might have actually come from me, but I was pretty sure Maggie moaned.
I stuffed the cookie in his mouth—let him smirk with his mouth full.
“Mmmm …” He closed his eyes and licked tiny crumbs from the corner of his lips.
Maggie’s hand clutched my wrist. She whispered near my ear, “How do you resist that?”
Not willing to take my eyes from Kai’s glorious face, I whispered, “Who said I ever did?”
His eyes opened and met mine. There was the smirk. “I’ve tasted better.” His tongue peeked out again, and he ran the tip halfway along his top lip.
I held the edge of the counter, my legs proving unreliable.
“You two need a room.” Maggie fanned herself.
Kai and I laughed.
“I think that’s our cue t
o leave,” he said.
“So soon? I’m sure there’s a decrepit history professor or two lurking around who haven’t yet attempted to floss my tonsils.” I shot Maggie a dirty look. “What’s with all the mistletoe everywhere?”
“It’s festive.”
“It’s a cold sore outbreak waiting to happen,” I snorted.
“And on that note, I’ll grab our coats.” He walked out of the kitchen.
“Be good to him. He’s a keeper.”
“Oh, great. Now you’re on Team Dutchman?”
“I’m on Team Selah. Up until November, he made you happy. Happier than you’ve ever sounded.”
“It’s difficult to infer tone in email.”
“And the smiling pictures of the two of you? Or the blush on your cheeks when you look at him?”
“Pfft. I haven’t blushed since Bush. The father.”
“You’re flushed right now.”
“Must be the booze.”
“You’re not even drinking.”
Right. “Maybe Elbow Patches spiked my cranberry soda. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“You’re in love. Fight it if you want, but resisting doesn’t change the truth.”
“Hush your mouth.”
“I will not. Don’t shove him away, Selah. Or find excuses and flaws that aren’t there.”
Kai returned, saving me from further pep talks.
We said good night to everyone and headed home, to my home. Not our home.
There was no ours at this point.
WHEN WE ARRIVED at my house, I wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Kai. Every day it became increasingly difficult to send him away at the end of the evening. I couldn’t even remember why I had been adamant about him not staying at my house. Or in my bed.
“Come inside?” I asked when he stopped in my driveway but didn’t turn off the engine.
“Are you sure?” His hand hovered over the key.
“Yes.”
Silence filled the interior. We paused, waiting for what I didn’t know.
“Selah …”
“Kai …”
“If I come inside tonight, I’m not returning to the hotel. I want you to know if we go inside, I’m staying.”
I smiled at him in the darkness with only the street lights and my porch light for illumination.
Missionary Position Page 22
