by Liz Durano
“Sure,” I say as I beckon for her to stand between me and the table. I smell a trace of rose oil in her hair, and it grounds me back to the warm feel of her body pressing lightly against mine, all other thoughts pushed away. As I guide her movements, one hand along the top and the side of the planer and the other hand on the opposite side, I find myself enclosing her body with my own.
Just show her how to do it. Don’t think of anything else.
I rest one hand on top of her hands and the other on her far shoulder and take a deep breath. “Ready for your first lesson in hand planing, the Japanese way?”
She nods. I love the feel of her hair brushing over my arms, but I force my focus on my hand covering hers, and slowly, I guide her hand, so she pulls the planer towards her. It takes some strength and I feel the muscles of her back tighten as she leans back into it, guiding the planer till it reaches the end of the cherry wood. Then we repeat the process again.
“American hand planes are usually pushed away from the body, but Japanese ones, like this, a hira kanna, is pulled towards you. It allows you to use your core muscles in addition to your arms to smoothen wood like this.”
I guide her body with my own, and with each motion, a thin strip of wood flutters in the air and on the third pass, she stops to catch one with one hand and studies it. “It’s so thin, like paper.”
“A human hair is about 100 microns across, and a droplet of water, maybe ten microns in diameter. Yet some of the best hand planers can create a wood shaving like this that’s only three microns thick, even thinner than a red blood cell,” I say, my gaze fixed on her profile. “The one you’re holding is probably about ten or fifteen microns.”
“You love what you do. You have such passion for it,” she says softly. “To others, it’s nothing but a piece of wood, but to you…”
“It can be a cabinet, a table, a support beam that will last for centuries,” I say. “It’s a combination of instrument and skill, and a passion for simplicity. None of my creations use nails or screws or glue, just joints—well, except for our bath tubs which require glue. I spend more time sharpening the blade for this hira kanna than actually using it, but when I do, the results are always worth the time and effort of preparing the blade.”
As I speak, I’m acutely aware of how close Harlow’s face is to mine, if not closer than it was earlier. I force myself to make light of things, not wanting it to go where I really want it to go, which would take us right into her bedroom. So I shrug and grin like I’m not, at that moment, fighting the urge to kiss her. “Just like your preparation to be a surgeon. So many years of training just to, I don’t know, slice into a kidney or something.”
Harlow chuckles and I feel the stress leave her body just then. But as she turns her head to look at me, I feel my resolve melting. Shit, this is trouble right here, and all I need to do is let go of the hira kanna and wrap my arms around her.
Focus, Dax. Focus. F-O-C-U-S.
But all focus disappears when Harlow slips her hands from underneath mine, and as she runs the fingers of one hand up my forearm and the other strokes my beard, all my resolve fades away. And when her lips touch mine ever so faintly, suddenly, all focus on anything else but her is gone. Completely and utterly gone.
Chapter 13
Harlow
The kiss is soft at first, just a light brushing of our lips that sends tingles running up and down my spine. Then it deepens, the lightness of Dax’s lips replaced now by an intention to drive me crazy with his tongue. Has it really been a long time since I’ve been kissed like this? Not just a meeting of lips before saying goodbye, see ya tonight, but really kissed?
And after hours of interviewing lawyers, I want this, something that will make me forget all the should-have’s and could-have’s that I’d set aside to pursue my career. Should have had more fun. Should have taken more vacations. Should have said no to that transplant that I knew would change everything between Jeff and me. Sure, it got me respect from my peers and my name on the door underneath Jeff’s, but was it all worth it? Was it all worth that close call to a bullet to the brain?
I pull away from Dax, surprised to feel tears on my cheeks. Oh, great, why the hell am I crying now? He really must think I’m crazy.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer as I raise my hands to my face, but Dax wipes them away first with his thumbs. “Oh, God, this is so embarrassing.”
“No, it’s not. I cry over beer commercials,” he says, his deep blue eyes kind.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Wait till Super Bowl is here and the commercials come on, especially the ones with the horses… and puppies,” Dax murmurs as he pulls me into a long embrace that by all intents and purposes should have calmed me, but instead, it does the complete opposite and soon, I’m sobbing uncontrollably. It’s as if every bit of self-control I’ve had in keeping everything inside comes pouring out like a dam finally breaking. But Dax is there, and he holds me.
Old Harlow would have fought being in his arms, not wanting anyone to see her weakness, but the new Harlow doesn’t fight it—not when it feels so good having Dax’s arms around me. I haven’t felt this safe in a long time.
“It’s okay, Harlow. Just let it all out. Might as well now than never, right?”
I chuckle through my tears as flashes of the last few years come to me like a home movie someone is rewinding while it’s still playing on the screen. Jeff and I meeting for the first time on the first day of my surgical rotation, and later, studying lab results at the doctors’ lounge, or guessing mystery conditions while watching recorded episodes of the TV show, House. There’s also the wedding that wasn’t a wedding but more like a last-minute meeting to tie the knot with a few close friends at the City Hall.
I was never into those big weddings, my mind always worrying about the cost better applied to something more lasting, like a property in the Hamptons that spelled success, even if that success was never enjoyed. Then came the surgical rotations, the private practice separate from Jeff’s, and everything else that only served to drive that wedge between us. I should have known Jeff was drifting farther and farther away from me as I pursued the things I wanted—if only to prove to myself that I was better than just another foster kid no one wanted—forgetting that all Jeff wanted was for me to stay at home and have his babies. He wanted a wife and mother, not a surgeon, a wife, and a mother, simple articles that are anything but simple when taken into context. He’d asked me to step down and give it all up and I had said no, and oh, how I paid for it with Marcus, born with that umbilical cord wrapped tight around his neck that not even an emergency caesarean section could save. But I’d also ignored the signs that Jeff had been cheating on me, determined to be the woman who had it all and refusing to show any sign of vulnerability.
My body shakes uncontrollably as I sob, and Dax continues to hold me quietly. I’m glad he doesn’t say anything, but even if he did, I’m not in any state to listen to whatever he’ll say. I just want someone to hold me, and it’s a realization that hits me that this is the first time I’ve allowed myself to let go and trust someone to see me like this. I’ve been running away from everyone ever since Jeff’s friend served me the divorce papers and later, the day I got in the car and took off, depending only on my GPS for the next place to drive to, and an old Thomas Guide where I’d highlighted my route so far. Hell, Dax is probably too young to know what a Thomas Guide is.
But does it even matter? He’s here… with me.
I can hear Dax breathing, smell the scent of that damn cologne again mingling with that which is all his own. When I pull away, I keep my focus on his chest, where my tears have dampened the front of his shirt. If I’d been wearing make-up, I’d be seeing black smears of my mascara by now. But I haven’t worn makeup for weeks, months even, settling only for the usual skin care products to keep my skin moisturized and protected from the sun. Besides, who would I wear makeup for out here in the middle of nowhere? Here, I�
�m not a surgeon with certificates gracing the walls of her office, one achievement piled on top of another like a deck of cards now scattered in the wind. Right now, I’m just a woman being held by a man.
When I lift my gaze up to Dax’s face, I meet his dark blue eyes, and I have to catch my breath. Does Dax know just how handsome he is? Does he realize just how the chiseled lines of his jaw are even more defined by a beard that’s trimmed so perfectly, making this woman’s stomach tighten in knots? Is he aware just how his mouth begs to be kissed again, for me to toss every ounce of self-respect left in me out the window and just take what I can?
When I run my fingers along the furrow where his spine divides the broad musculature of his back, Dax stiffens, drawing a sudden breath. The pupils of his eyes dilate as I run my tongue along my upper lip, tasting the remnants of my tears and his kiss. He lowers his head, our lips just inches away.
“Anyone home?” Someone’s at the door.
Dax curses under his breath and pulls away. He leans his forehead against mine as I hear the knocking on the door, louder this time. “It’s Benny. He must have just come from work to drop off my truck, which means my sister’s not far behind.”
I wait till Dax leaves the workroom before retreating into the bathroom so I can wash my face and hope I don’t look like I’ve been crying. I hear Benny’s voice saying that Sarah texted him about Dax needing his truck back and so here he was. I run my fingers through my hair and take one last glance at the mirror before joining Dax and Benny at the door.
“Hi, Benny. What are you guys doing out in the heat? Come on in,” I say just as I see a car make its way towards the Pearl in the distance.
“I would, but Sarah will only get ticked off if I do. It’s date night, and she wants no distractions,” Benny says, laughing as he hands Dax the keys to his truck. “She’s determined to go out to dinner and check out this movie she’s been dying to see.”
“Where’s Dyami?” Dax asks.
“Home. Nana’s with him so you’re free from babysitting duties,” Benny says, turning to face me. “Guess what? Dyami asked me to buy some anatomy app after that talk you guys had about kidneys and stuff. This one shows kids how the body works, like allergies and digestion and breathing. It’s pretty amazing. Now he’s interested in something else other than Minecraft.”
“Tell him he can ask me anything anytime,” I say as Sara parks the car next to Dax’s truck and steps out.
“I will,” Benny says, and we all watch as Sarah opens the back passenger door and takes out a cooler. “Oh, that’s right; almost forgot. Nana has some stuff for you.”
“Oh, no, she didn’t have to,” I protest as Sarah gives me a hug and hands me the cooler. It’s heavy, and I set it on the bench next to the door.
“What’s in it? Is it food?” Dax reaches for the cooler lid, but Sarah swats his hand away.
“It’s not for you, Big D, so hands off,” Sarah says, laughing as she faces me. “Nana went to the Farmer’s Market today and got you some stuff she figured you’d need to try out while you’re here. Locally made stuff, that kind of thing. Oh, and she made you some tamales, too.”
“Tell her thank you for me. I really appreciate it.”
“If my little brother starts bothering you, just kick him out,” she says, laughing as Dax glowers at her. “Anyway, we gotta go, or we’ll be late for dinner.” They say their goodbyes, leaving us standing at the door watching the cloud of dust trailing behind their car.
“So where were we?” Dax asks as he shuts the door and turns to face me. This time, I don’t hesitate.
“We were here.” I kiss him then, my actions taking him by surprise. But I want Dax, and I’m tired of pretending that I don’t. This time, there’s an urgency to the way I kiss him back. I want him bad, and I want him now. The sooner, the better for I know that the longer I think about it, the greater the chance I’ll convince myself that this is all wrong. I slide my hands under his shirt, feeling the taut muscles underneath. When I tug his shirt and pull it up along his back, Dax doesn’t need any more hints about what I want. He pulls off his shirt, tossing it onto the bench by the door before pulling me towards him.
“I love where we are,” Dax murmurs. His hands cradle my face as he looks at me—really looks at me—like he’s drinking me in. His eyes are so blue, reminding me of the New Mexico sky. I love the way he devours me with his eyes, and when he kisses me hungrily, it’s all teeth and tongue, as if the time for dancing around each other has finally run out.
I let go of all thought and let my body take over. When he palms my breast through my shirt, his thumb pressing on my nipple, I gasp. With his other hand, Dax pulls the elastic from my ponytail and weaves his fingers through my hair. His mouth leaves my lips, and I feel him blazing a trail of kisses down my neck, pulling my head back and exposing my neck to him. When he finds the sensitive spot behind my ear and sucks softly, I dig my fingers into the skin of his shoulders. My knees give way, and I cling to him just as Dax pulls away.
“What?” I ask, dazed.
“Not here,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom. Dax stops in front of the bed and faces me again, lowering his head to kiss me, this time, accompanied by a playful nibble of my lower lip. He takes his time as he undresses me, savoring every bit of skin he comes across with a nip here as he tosses my shirt to the side and a lick there when he slides my pants down my hips. Dax eyes me when I wriggle my hips before him to help the descent of my panties down to the floor, and from the way his dick is straining through his jeans, I love that my little show doesn’t go unappreciated. Laughing, I push him down on the bed, my impatience getting the better of me.
I unbutton his jeans and pull them off, along with his boxer briefs, to reveal him all naked on the bed before me. For a few moments, I just stare at him, my throat suddenly dry. He’s absolutely beautiful, and all I can think is how perfectly the term, tall, dark and handsome applies to him. As Dax props himself up on his elbows to look at me, I can name every muscle along his torso, six-pack abs begging to be touched, even licked and boy, do I plan to do just that today. I don’t even know where to begin but I let my gaze drift lower, down to his muscular thighs before focusing on his penis… no, I mean, his dick. His cock. Why do I have to be so technical and call everything by their anatomical term? But holy hell, there’s no need to be technical about his dick. He’s big. I catch my breath, my cheeks burning. I realize then that I’ve only ever been with one man—until now. I pause, the thought rendering me in a panic.
“Come here,” Dax murmurs, reaching for my hand and pulling me down to the bed next to him. His gaze travels down my body, and in a moment of uncertainty, I vainly cover myself with my arms.
“Harlow, we don’t have to go through with it if you’re not comfortable.”
“But I am comfortable,” I say almost angrily, removing my hands from my breasts before Dax kisses me again. And for the next few minutes, that’s all he does—kissing me tenderly and calming the inner turmoil until it simmers down, replaced with the need to have him make love to me.
“Did you bring any, um, protection?” I ask, and Dax sits up and reaches for his jeans, pulling out a condom packet from his wallet and sets it on the bedside table.
“Of course.”
The sight of a condom makes me blush even more, only because it’s been a long time since I’ve needed to use one. Jeff and I were trying to get pregnant then, not avoid it.
“You’re gonna need a few of those,” I blurt out before I can stop myself and hide my face against his chest as he returns to lie on his side next to me. “Oh, God, I can’t believe I just said that.”
“Don’t worry, because we will need a few of them before the day is over. But we don’t need it just yet. I like to take my time, Harlow.” Dax pushes me down on my back as he trails long, lazy kisses down my neck and breasts and my belly. Then he positions himself between my legs, parting my thighs with his hands.
Wait! He’s not
going down on me, is he?
I bring my hands down to cover myself. “Dax, wait…”
He looks up, his gaze questioning. “Tell me you don’t want me to, Harlow, and I won’t.”
“It’s just that… no one’s ever… and I mean, no one…” I can’t continue. It sounds pathetic. It’s like some undiscovered country, and in many ways it is. Even I haven’t discovered it yet.
Dax’s brow furrows as he moves back up, so we’re level on the bed again. Great. Guess I just killed the mood. “What do you mean, no one?”
I cover my face in my hands, but Dax pulls one hand away. I open one eye and see him studying my face. “But if you want to do it, then—”
“This isn’t only about me or what I want, Harlow. It’s about you and what you want. Would you want me to?”
His words surprise me. Not the question, but the one about this being about me and what I want. Sure, sex with Jeff had started out fun at first, but it almost felt like two nerds going at it, and before long, it became a duty because we wanted to have a baby so bad. And when IVF came along, it was almost non-existent. It didn’t help that he wasn’t exactly big, something I would never be caught dead mentioning to anyone, not even Jeff. Instead, I told myself for years that it was the motion of the ocean that mattered, not the size of the ship.
“Would you want me to, Harlow?” Dax asks again.
“I think so, but I have to warn you…”
His frown deepens, his expression perplexed now. “Warn me about what?”
“I’m frigid.”
Dax stares at me. “You’re what?”
“I’m frigid,” I whisper as loud as I can as if it’s a secret I don’t want anyone else to know. It’s also embarrassing.
“That’s it? Is this from a doctor? Like a diagnosis?”
I pause. Jeff is a doctor. “Well, kinda, but not from a professional standpoint.”
