Open House

by Tamara Larson

  "Well, you did practically suffocate me with your thighs at one point, but I can't think of a better way to go."

  Blushing, she covered her face with one hand. "Well, it's been awhile for me too. But I'll try not to put you in a headlock next time."

  "Next time? Meaning this wasn't just some isolated event brought on by months of prolonged frustration?"

  "Well, partly that. But like we said before. I think there's something here. Something good. More than sex. What do you think?"

  He paused and looked down at where they were still joined. Reluctantly, he gently disentangled himself and reached down to pull his pants up around his hips. It just didn't feel right to talk about this while still cradled in her moist heat. But he stilled her hands as she moved to gather her dress around her, stopping her from covering up those delicious curves. He could use her beauty as a distraction and hopefully wouldn't get too emotional.

  He cleared his throat and brushed her hair off her face with one large warm hand so he could read her expression. "Well, when we met, I didn't really think I was capable of more than the sex part. Losing Deborah and the baby did something to me -"

  "Baby? What baby?"

  "My son. The one who died in the car accident."

  "What car accident?"

  Jack stared at her in shock. How could she not know about this? It had been all over the news. "The one two years ago that killed Deborah. She was eight months pregnant. And I was driving."

  "What?" Lacey nearly shouted.

  "Didn't Serena tell you about this?"

  "No, of course not. Do you think I would have been lusting after you if I'd known you were just widowed?" She moved to grab for her dress again, but he kept an iron grip on her hands. She grunted in exasperation, suddenly feeling naked in a very bad way.

  Jack knew he should let her get dressed. But as long as she was nude she wouldn't be able to leave and walk out on him. He just couldn't face that kind of rejection. Not again. And especially not after finally making love to her after all this time. But he felt her slipping away from him and it made him feel desperate and angry so he lashed out. "Oh. I get it. Too much baggage. I'm sorry if my grief isn't very attractive. I had no idea it was such a mood killer."

  "Jack, don't be ridiculous. That's not what I meant. You took me by surprise here. What I meant was that I shouldn't be chasing after you when you needed time to grieve. It's disrespectful."

  "Disrespectful? To who?"

  "Well, your wife. You're probably still mourning her, and I'm all over you. I'm so embarrassed. How could I not know any of this?"

  "Believe me. My wife would be relieved to know I'm moving on. She certainly did. Long before the accident." He said, bitterly.

  "What do you mean, Jack? She was having an affair? The baby, it was yours?"

  "Yes, it was mine. Considering she'd moved on with a woman from her Pilates class, I'm reasonably sure that it was. Unfortunately for her, we still had sex occasionally. At least twice or three times a year, if I was lucky." He let go of her and ran both hands through his already messed up hair. It stood up on end and he edged away from her, expecting her to bolt.

  Instead she reached out and palmed his cheek with one hand. The gesture was incredibly sweet, and he closed his eyes in reaction.

  "Oh my God. Poor Jack. I'm so sorry."

  Hearing the awful pity in her voice he pulled away from her hand and leaned casually against the counter, doing up his belt while looking away from her. "Sorry my wife was gay, or sorry that you just had sex with a guy with a pretty messed up past?"

  Lacey pulled her dress around her shoulders, and used it to cover up her breasts as much as she could. "Sorry that you've lost so much. Sorry that you've had so much pain to deal with. I swear, I didn't know anything about this. All Serena said was that your wife was out of the picture."

  "Wow. That's one way of putting it. Nice, Serena."

  "She probably thought it was something you should tell me, Jack." Lacey said reproachfully.

  "And when was I going to do that exactly? When we were making out in the truck? Or maybe when we were discussing eco-friendly toilets? When is the right time to tell someone you're interested in that you killed your wife? And worse yet, you're not really that sorry that she's gone." He looked at her defiantly. If they were going to talk about this then she should know everything.

  "Jack. You don't mean that." Lacey shook her head in complete denial. In no way willing to believe Jack was capable of hurting anyone.

  "I kind of do actually. Deborah was an unhappy woman. She never loved me and she certainly never wanted me."

  "That can't be true. How did you guys get together then?"

  "We were sort of friends, at first. I thought she was different. Kind of aloof and unattainable. I was an idiot. I thought I could win her over eventually. But I never did. Even after we were married, she was distant. Every single day I disappointed her in some way. And every single night she rejected me. Not just in bed. Eventually, she made it very clear that she found everything about me distasteful. My job, my clothes, my sense of humor, my family. Nothing. I mean, nothing met with her approval. So, when she said she was leaving, I was actually relieved. There was going to an end to it. I wasn't going to have to feel unworthy forever. But when she said she was going to open a pilates studio with her girlfriend in San Francisco, and she was taking the baby with her. We argued. She said she didn't want to raise a child around a brute like me. It was raining, hard. And I lost control of the truck. Stupidest thing ever. I've driven that road a million times. And never had a problem. I just wasn't paying attention. That's all it took. Three seconds of distraction and my son was gone."

  Talking about this was a mistake. It brought it all back. The squeal of tires, Deborah's scream as the car crunched against the tree. The flying glass and sharp pain as the seat-bealt drove into his hips and chest. And then the awful silence in the truck. Silence and the scent of blood and gasoline.

  Jack moved as far away from Lacey as possible and looked out her kitchen window at the neat, yet tiny backyard his buddy, Mark, had landscaped. He wondered if she could see his hands shaking. He put them in his pockets, hoping she wouldn't notice and feel sorry for him and his lack of control over his body.

  "Oh Jack. That's just awful."

  "Yeah, well it doesn't help that the last thing I said to her was, 'Better a brute like me than a bitch like you.'"

  "I don't know what to say. I'm so, so sorry."

  "Don't be. I'm the one that should apologize. This must be the worst pillow talk ever."

  "Well, we don't exactly have pillows here. And I suppose it was long overdue to come out. But are you sure you're ready to be with someone? Even on a casual basis. It sounds like you still have a lot to deal with where Deborah is concerned."

  "I don't know. I thought I was ready. But I doubt I'm ever going to be completely over it. How do you feel about being with a guy who doesn't really know how to talk about anything serious unless it's being forced out of him?"

  "I don't really know. This is a lot of information to process. Would it be awful if I asked for a little time?"

  "Don't you think we've wasted enough time, as it is?"

  "Jack, I'm not rejecting you. You're everything any woman could possibly want, despite how your wife made you feel. I do want to try. I really do. Right now I feel so bad for you that I'm almost willing to be the distraction you need. To make you feel better. But I want more than that from you. And I think I deserve more. Just give me a few days to absorb all of this, okay?"

  He sighed. "What's a few more days at this point? But Lacey, I'm not using you to bury my grief, or distract myself, or exorcise my demons. I have real feelings for you. And I hope you can forgive me for omitting all the ugly details of my life. It wasn't intentional. I just prefer not to talk about it. Or think about it. Or deal with it in any way."

  "I get it. Believe me. Communication isn't my strong suit either. I'd much rather keep things light, too. B
ut being together isn't all about having fun and wild monkey sex. There has to be more to it than that."

  "Are you sure? Wild monkey sex and enjoying each other seems like enough to me. Can't we just try it like that for a while? Does it sound so terrible?"

  "Actually that sounds pretty good, in theory. But you know it never works like that. I need more and I think you do too. I'm just not sure you're ready. And I'm really worried that I can't give you what you need. I've never suffered anything even close to what you've been through. In the last three years you've lost your dad, your wife and your unborn child. By comparison, I've had a pretty uneventful life. Maybe you need someone who can understand what it's like to lose so much."

  "So I need to be with someone as messed up as I am?"

  "No, you're not messed up. Not at all. The fact that you're still capable of functioning and laughing and even contemplating moving on is just astounding. If it was me, I'd be catatonic."

  "But I was like that, before you. Not catatonic exactly. But barely hanging on. You woke me up. Made me see that life can be good again. Made me smile and made me so horny I could hardly see straight."

  "You have a way with words, Jack."

  "I know, one track mind. What can I say? I'm a guy. I know it's not terribly romantic, but that desire, that need for something as normal as sex was such a relief after not being able to feel anything but anger and grief. You have no idea how close I was to being lost forever. If you hadn't shown up when you did, I don't know if I would have recovered, ever."

  "I didn't do anything. I just stared at you and made a fool of myself."

  "That was part of it, for sure. Not the fool part, but the staring. You made me feel like a man again. People have been so fucking weird around me since the accident. They don't know what to say, or they're always asking me how I'm doing. Or they just look at me with pity. I can't stand that look. But to you, I wasn't some poor schmuck you felt sorry for. I was the guy you were hot for. And that was the best feeling in the world after being 'Poor Jack' to everyone else."

  "You can't tell me that I was the first woman to mentally undress you since the accident."

  "No, I can't say that. Serena started to play match-maker about a year after it happened. She was constantly throwing me and random women together."

  "Great. So I was just the latest woman she threw at you?"

  "Kind of. But you were the first I wanted to catch."

  "Wow. You are smooth, aren't you?"

  "Hardly. If I was smooth at all, I probably wouldn't have started this conversation with my pants around my ankles.

  "Maybe not."

  "What I'm saying is that you really were the first woman who simultaneously made me laugh, made me curious, and made me want to rip your clothes off. So, you were exactly what I needed at that moment in time to make me feel alive again."

  "Where do we go now? What if I start giving you the 'Poor Jack' look. Not intentionally, of course. But it's hard not to see you differently knowing what you've been through. I may have been what you needed then, but what if I can't be what you need now?"

  "Lacey, all I need from you is what you've given me up until now."

  "And what's that exactly?"

  "Just treat me like a normal guy. 'Cause that's what I am. Fight with me if I'm being a jerk. Make me laugh if you want. And jump my bones whenever possible. Not because you want to console the poor widower, but because you want me. All I ask is that you don't tip-toe around me because of all this stuff from my past."

  "And what if I can't do that?"

  "Well, then I guess our days of hot monkey sex are numbered. I was with someone who made me feel bad about myself for years, but even that would be preferable than being pitied. I want the next woman I'm with to feel lucky to have me. Not feel sorry for me."

  "I really do want to be that woman, Jack. But I need to sort this all out in my head. Can we meet up in a few days?"

  "Whatever you need, Lacey. But if you do decide you want to take a chance on us, please do it because it's what you want. Not because of some misplaced sense of obligation. Okay?"

  "Okay. Now can I get dressed? This granite is freezing without all the friction."

  Jack silently handed Lacey her bra. His brow furrowed as he realized that this might be the one and only time he saw her naked. He drank in the sight of her as she shimmied into her pretty green bra.

  It was pretty clear that she wanted out. Her demand for just a few days to sort things out was just a polite way of pulling the plug on this relationship. He couldn't really blame her. Who wouldn't want to escape his troubled past? So, she would avoid him and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He knew he needed to be warm and reassuring in order to convince Lacey not to give up on him, but it just wasn't in him. Being numb was better than feeling pain, so he embraced the coldness in him and pulled away from her.

  "I gotta go," he said, crossing his arms over his naked chest. "Okay if we do the checklist another time?"

  Lacey looked at him reproachfully. "Well, sure. If you have to go."

  "What?" He asked frostily as he yanked on his shirts. "You said you needed time. Might as well start right now."

  Lacey gaped at him. "Okay. I'll call you in a few days."

  Jack moved in front of her and gripped her by the waist. Lacey thought maybe he was going to kiss her, but instead he lifted her down from the kitchen island as impersonally as possible. Like he was helping his grandma or a stranger. Not the woman he had been naked with just minutes before.

  "Yeah. You do that," he said, sounding like he didn't give a damn if she called or not. He looked a his large silver watch. "So, we're done here then?"

  Lacey's mouth dropped open even further. "Yeah. We're done. You go ahead. I'll get myself together and follow in a few minutes."

  "Good deal. And would you mind cleaning up a little? The counter, I mean." He gestured towards some polish and paper towel on the kitchen counter. "Selena is showing the place in two days, and a butt imprint on the granite will be hard to explain to any prospective buyers."

  He wanted her to stay and clean her butt print off the precious granite? Lacey nearly shrieked at him as he turned towards the front door and let himself out with a casual wave. Fighting the impulse to throw his stupid clipboard after him, she restrained herself. She had asked for this in a way. Finding out about his past certainly proved that she didn't know him at all. Maybe this jerk who left her standing here with the sweat barely dry on her body was the real Jack. If that was the case then she had made a huge error in judgment. Or the man she was falling for was more damaged than she knew how to deal with. Either way, she needed to decide what to do next. At this moment, as she tried to muster her dignity, it really didn't seem worth the risk. Boring suddenly seemed very, very appealing.

  Chapter Seven

  Two days later Lacey was once again walking up the front path to her new cottage. It didn't seem real to her that this was her place. She felt an enormous amount of pride when she looked at its red brick exterior and yet it hadn't actually sunk in quite yet that she belonged here. Partly because she couldn't actually move in until Serena was finished using it as a Presentation Center. But as soon as the six similar units currently being built two blocks over were sold, the cottage was all hers.

  Today it felt bittersweet approaching the front porch. The last time she'd been here, Jack had been sitting on the step, waiting for her with a big, welcoming smile and warmth in his eyes. Seeing him there, she had momentarily fantasized about coming home to him everyday. Like they were a real couple instead of some undefined mystery relationship. Right now it seemed like he would never look at her like that again.

  Their previous meeting had ended on a very awkward note. After making love on the granite countertop with such hunger, they'd dressed in silence like strangers and then parted without completing the walk-through checklist as planned. Jack's demeanor had completely juxtaposed from playful and sensual to icy cold in seconds. Her reaction to
his confession had made him withdraw to such a degree that she felt like she didn't know him at all. And maybe she didn't. She'd been positive she'd been falling in love with him but now she wasn't sure how she felt. Could she really love him and know so little about him? Probably not. Maybe she was just in love with the idea of him, rather than the actual person.

  When she'd met him, he'd seemed so perfect. Her romance novel stud come to life. But instead of rescuing her, he was the one with actual issues, and a past, and a whole mess of problems to overcome. Was she ready for something so intense? Could she heal him after everything he'd been through? She felt like a superficial jerk for thinking it, but she wasn't sure how she felt about taking on so much. She'd wanted him, yes, but not this flawed version of him. Not the jerk who made love like an angel and them morphed into a devil when things didn't go his way.

  Until meeting Jack, Lacey had skated through life without getting too involved. Even her previous romantic relationships had been very much about comfort and convenience rather than passion. But with Jack, she would have to commit herself fully. She couldn't just have the parts of him she adored, like his sense of humor, and his ability to kiss her senseless. She would also have to deal with a man who buried all emotion to avoid getting hurt. Was she really up to the task of unthawing Mr. Freeze? Or would she just compound the problem if she failed and drive him even deeper into the cold?

  Distracted by her thoughts, Lacey's hand nearly collided with the crotch of a well-dressed young man as he opened the front door from the inside. He was smiling as he deftly moved out of the path of her fingers, said 'hello' and looked adoringly behind him at another neat young man who was following him down the porch steps.

  Lacey went inside, shaking her head in embarrassment at nearly groping a stranger. She was doing a lot of that lately.