by Nancy Warren
“This is fantastic,” he said as he tucked in. Then he glanced up at her. “You’re fantastic.”
She shook her head.
“No. You are. I can’t believe I found you.”
She reached out and touched his hand. “Don’t get too carried away. Remember, this is your first time out.”
He stopped chewing to stare at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m only saying, you’ve been married for what? Six years? You’re going to want to get out and date. It’s natural.”
She hated saying that. She felt like she was chewing on razor blades. But the sooner both of them were aware of the reality, the better.
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what’s natural for me.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“You know what I want right now?” he asked.
“No. What?”
“I want dessert.” His eyes crinkled at the corners in a very sexy way.
“Well, we are out of dessert, Mr. McLeod.”
“No lemon bars?”
She shook her head.
He rose from the table and started stalking her. “No wicked chocolate brownies?”
She shook her head, her skin already beginning to tingle.
“Then,” he grabbed her and lifted her so fast she gasped, “I guess I’m going to eat you for dessert.”
And he did.
She didn’t mean to spend the night at Geoff’s. It was the last thing she intended. The final time they’d made love she’d told him she needed to get home. He’d kissed her sleepily and agreed.
While their hearts settled to a more regular rhythm that seemed to thump in time to the rain on the roof, he said, “When I came out of the shower and saw you at my desk, and you came right across the room and kissed me, was it—“
“It was the paragraph you wrote in class. You used every one of the five senses, by the way. Excellent work.”
“I used every one of the five senses to describe how much I wanted you.”
“You did.”
He shifted, ran a hand over her breasts. “I wooed you with my words.”
“You did.”
“And I thought it was my hot bod.”
She rolled so she was on top of him. “That too.” And feeling sleepy and sexy and sated, she kissed him, her hair falling like a curtain around them.
The next sound she heard was his alarm dragging her out of the sweetest dream, one so nice she didn’t want to leave it even though once her eyes were open she couldn't remember what had happened. She thought Geoff might have been in it. And she suspected from the tingling in her body that it had been an erotic dream.
He groaned. Opened one eye then the other flew open to join it. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. You should be open by now. Come on. Let’s get up. You’ve got to get going.”
“No. I don’t. Dosana’s opening up. I’m going in later.”
“But you’re always there on the week days.”
“I’ve got an appointment. Dosana knows.”
“Oh. Okay.” He didn’t ask but obviously wondered what kind of appointment would take her away from her business.
Because he so carefully didn’t ask she told him. “It’s a medical test. No big deal. I’ll be back for the lunch rush.” Probably.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair and shook it gently. “You sure there’s nothing I need to worry about?”
She shook her head. Smiled at him. “No. A routine thing. I’m healthy as a horse.” Hopefully a mare in heat in fact.
She could hardly tell the man she’d gone through half a box of condoms with that she had an appointment with a fertility specialist.
Some things you didn’t need to share with a brand new lover and she was reasonably certain that her plans to become pregnant through a sperm bank were right up there.
“Okay. You need a ride or anything?”
“No. But thanks for asking.”
He kissed her swiftly. “I’m here.”
She stared at him. Usually, that was her line.
Chapter Thirteen
“Congratulations,” her doctor told Iris at her next visit. “We scanned your ovaries and you’ve got the eggs of a twenty year old.”
“Well that’s good.”
“Sure is.” The fertility doc tapped on a keyboard. “Next step is to see whether your fallopian tubes are open enough that you can conceive. It’s a simple test. We shoot some dye into the tubes and check for blockages. If that’s as positive as I suspect it will be then we’re good to go.”
“Why doesn’t that sound as positive as I feel like it should?”
“Because I don’t want to raise any false hopes. You’re a good candidate for artificial insemination, no question. However, you have to understand that it doesn’t always work.”
“What are my odds?”
She’d asked Rose this same question but she wanted to see if both of the doctors she trusted were on the same page.
“Obviously, every body is different, but statistically, your chances of conceiving with AI are between ten and twenty percent.”
Yep, her two trusted docs were on exactly the same page.
“So, statistically, if I try this five to ten times…?”
“I can’t make any promises.”
She nodded. And at several hundred bucks a pop, she was going to have to sell a lot of muffins.
She supposed she should be grateful that her chances were good that she could conceive instead of feeling that fate should have sent her a life partner by now.
“I want to get going on this.” She had this strange sense of urgency, as though time was running out.
“Okay then. Here’s the drill. You buy your sperm so it’s ready when you are. You can schedule the procedure with my nurse for next week. If you’re clear then on the first day of your next cycle, you’re going to start taking your temperature.”
By the time her doctor had finished, she felt like a science experiment. Pregnancy vitamins were first on the list. She was to start taking those right away.
Of course, if she walked into the local pharmacy and bought prenatal vitamins she might as well take out an ad in the Hidden Falls Record.
She’d have to drive to Eugene to get the vitamins and the fancy ovulation-detecting thermometer.
When she got to work later that day, Dosana appeared very happy to see her. “I was swamped this morning.”
“Sorry.”
“You think about more staff?”
“Yes. I’ll do something. Put an ad on Craigslist, something. I promise.”
“Okay.”
She was icing the newest batch of cinnamon buns when the bell jingled. She put down the icing bag and went out front. It looked like one of the grim reaper’s anorexic minions was out front. He was all in black, hunched into a black hoodie so all she saw was a pale oval of face. But she recognized that face and her own lit up when she recognized the promising creative writer from Geoff’s class.
“Milo,” she said. “You came.”
“Yeah,” he said to the floor.
“Come on in and have a seat. I’m really short staffed so I can’t sit with you right away but let me give you a hot chocolate or a coffee or something and I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”
“Sure. Cool.”
And he wafted to the back and sat at a table for two, pulled some books and a notebook out of his backpack and settled in.
Of all days, did he have to choose this one? Because she’d left Dosana on her own all morning, she’d felt guilty and let her employee off early as she had an exam to study for. Of course, the second Dosana left, every single citizen of Hidden Falls and way too many outsiders suddenly became overcome with caffeine withdrawal. As one, they converged on Sunflower.
She barely had time to think; all she could do was take orders, run the espresso machine. She’d never felt so close to losing it when she felt a presence behind her. Milo had one of the rubber tubs sh
e used for dirty dishes and was hefting it, overflowing with dirty plates and cups into the back.
He didn’t say a word, simply found a dishcloth and headed out front to wipe down tables.
On his next trip back, she shoved an apron at him. “Can you take this Panini to Eric? The guy with the red hair and the computer sitting in back?”
“Sure.” He delivered the food and then returned. And from then on he ran food out, cleared, cleaned, swept. He couldn’t run the cash register or the espresso machine and she wouldn’t let him touch food, but it was so nice to have an extra pair of hands.
By four-thirty the rush ended as suddenly as it had begun.
“Phew,” she said. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“You ever work in a coffee shop before?”
“No. I was a bus boy in the last place we lived in.”
“You want a job?”
His vacant brown eyes lit for a moment. “You serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious. You helped without being asked and you have good instincts. I think you’d be an asset to Sunflower.”
“I go to school.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I know. The job would be after school and weekends.” Knowing that she did not want a lecture from his English teacher she hastily said, “And not every day, obviously. We’d work something out.”
“Okay.”
“Great. We’ll get forms signed and so on, but for now, let’s sit down.” They settled at the table he’d already occupied. “Did you bring me any creative writing?”
He looked deeply uncomfortable. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
But still he made no move to get out his notebook or laptop or whatever he wrote on. Finally, he said, “I feel weird. I’ve never shown anyone my work before.”
“But writing is meant to be shared,” she said. “I can’t tell you how much I learned in college from taking creative writing classes and then critiquing each other’s work in class. Even simply hearing your work read aloud tells you something about whether the story’s working or if the words flow.”
“Do you even know how lucky you are, man?” a voice said from a few tables away.
Eric. He’d finished his Panini. Now, instead of working on the next great horror movie, he was eavesdropping.
He shook his head miserably. “You’ve got a published author sitting there wanting to read your work. That’s like a gift. Take it.”
Not only was Eric about as subtle as a solar eclipse, but his clear jealousy of Milo’s chance worked on the budding writer. “I guess,” Milo muttered and he reached into his pack and pulled out a dog eared notebook. Black, of course. Somehow she’d known he’d write in long hand. He pushed it toward her. Where other people might blush in embarrassment, he only grew paler, as though even his blood wanted to run and hide.
“Won’t you read it to me?”
“Not where everyone can hear,” he muttered.
She patted the notebook, completely understanding his position. Sure, they could meet somewhere else but she only had so much time and the coffee shop was where she usually was.
She leaned closer to Milo. “I’m going to try an experiment. If it doesn’t work, we’ll figure out something else. Trust me.”
He looked slightly puzzled but shrugged which she assumed was permission to try her experiment.
“Eric,” she said, “Would you like to read a scene from your screenplay?”
“Seriously?” If Milo went paler when he was embarrassed, Eric blushed enough for both of them. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”
He picked up his computer and his bag and lumbered over to their table, pulling up a third chair.
She wasn’t sure her experiment was the greatest idea, but she liked his enthusiasm.
“Okay, so this is a horror movie. It’s about zombie bats.”
“Zombie bats. Okay.”
“Yeah. The infection is coming from bats but no one knows that. They lock out the human zombies but you know, at night the bats come out.”
“Oh, this is creepy,” she said. “There’s a reason I never watch horror movies.”
“You’ll never watch this one if I don’t sell it,” the screenwriter said.
“Read it,” Milo said and she could see he was interested.
Eric started with his first scene and as he began to read aloud he stopped himself a few times. “No. That’s the wrong word.” Then, “Oh, man, no actor could spit all that out. I’ll have to rewrite that line.”
“See the value of reading your own work aloud? Or even better, having someone else read it.”
“Would you?” Eric asked.
“What? Read your screenplay aloud?”
“Yeah. The two of you.” He dug into his bag. “I’ve got extra scripts.” He pushed two across the table. Assigned parts.
In moments she was saying words she’d never imagined would come out of her mouth.
“Chuck? Bolt the door. The zombies are coming. I can hear them. The army of death is on the march.”
Chapter Fourteen
When Geoff walked into Sunflower at the end of the day he told himself he was only grabbing a latte and maybe one of those wicked brownies. He wasn’t heading to Sunflower because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Iris all day.
Caffeine and chocolate, that’s what drew him.
Hot sex and a gorgeous woman? Nah.
He was rehearsing something cool and witty to say, not that anything was leaping to mind, as he walked in. Iris didn’t even hear the bells. She and Milo and the red headed guy who seemed to live at one particular table in Sunflower were crowded around a table. Red had a laptop in front of him and Iris and Milo had screenplays. He knew they were screenplays from the way they were bound.
“Henry, what did ya do with the remote?” Iris read in a nasal, nagging tone. “Henry? Can’t you say something when I’m talking to you? Henry?” Then she opened her mouth wide enough to scream and instinctively he ducked his head. But luckily she stuck to a silent scream.
“And scene.” Eric said nodding. “Better that time, yeah. You guys were right.” And he banged something into his laptop.
He didn’t think he’d ever been overcome with lust before from watching a woman do a fake movie scream. This had to be a first.
“Okay,” she said. “Milo, are you ready to read something now?”
“I think you should go first,” Milo said.
She hadn’t spotted him so he could watch her. Well, only the side of her face as she was facing Eric. But he felt the sudden tension in her body. Silence descended for a long moment. Then she said, “Okay. Okay, I will. Let me go get my laptop. I’ve got everything on there.”
When she rose she saw him. And because he was looking he had the opportunity to watch her face when she first caught sight of him. He watched emotion jump into her eyes, surprise, lust, and like, and the awkwardness of here’s this guy I had sex with last night, how do I act? She blushed a little, which only made him want to drag her into the back and do all the things to her he’d been fantasizing about since he’d kissed her goodbye this morning.
He wanted to reach out and touch her, to pull her into his arms so badly that he stuck his hands in his pockets to keep them out of trouble.
“Hi,” she finally said.
“Hi.”
It was one of those moments when neither moved or said anything and it seemed to stretch to forever. He felt himself reliving a storm of impressions from last night. Heat, and the sounds she made, and the look in her eyes when she climaxed and the way her chest blushed.
“I was going for my computer. Can I get you something?”
He knew a latte would take time and he didn’t want to pull her away from her lit circle so he said, “Can you bag me a brownie?”
“Sure.” She glanced around but the two male writers were deeply into it. He heard the words zombie brains and figured he could kiss her right in the middle of the coffee shop and the wri
ters wouldn’t notice. She must have caught the direction of his thoughts. She said, “Could you come in the back? I want you to look at, um, that thing I was telling you about.”
“Absolutely.”
He knew it was an honor to be invited to her inner sanctum. He glimpsed two ovens and racks of trays, stainless sinks and shelves of neatly labeled supplies.
He backed her up against one of the counters and kissed her breathless. “Was that the thing you wanted to talk to me about?”
She licked her wet lips. Nodded. Pulled him back for another long, deep kiss.
“Can you come over tonight?” he asked.
“I’ve thought about nothing else all day.” He liked that she was honest about her desires. Flattered they were as strong as his.
“Me neither,” he said.
He managed one more kiss before she collected her laptop and said, “I’ve got to get back out there.”
As he left she put the CLOSED sign on the door behind him. Her sign said she closed at five o’clock but usually she wasn’t as prompt.
He watched for a moment through the window, munching his brownie, as she sat and opened her computer. He watched her tap some keys and then take a deep breath and start reading.
She was discovering one of the truest rules of teaching, he thought. When you teach someone else, you always learn.
When Iris arrived home, she fully expected the house to be empty so she was shocked to hear the unmistakable sounds of construction upstairs. Banging and crashing keeping time with Led Zeppelin, which told her that Jack Chance was hard at work.
“Hi, Dad,” she yelled up the stairs. “I’m home.”
He turned off the music. “Honey, come on up here. I’ve been waiting. I want to talk to you.”
Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no! This only worked if she left him notes and he followed her instructions. She did not want to find tactful ways to tell him that his ideas were nutty. Her father was the Gaudi of home handymen.
This is my house, she reminded herself as she climbed to the upper level.
