by Bree Dahlia
“Uh, it’s nothing.” Wait a frickin’ minute. “Did… Did you sleep over?”
He nodded. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Con’ll be here any minute to pick me up.” He smiled, and I glared at him. “I’m glad I got to see you this morning before I left.”
I tugged my robe closer together and hugged myself. It was crazy that I was freezing. I looked away, knowing I resembled something the cat dragged in, but at least I fell asleep with my makeup on. It could have been worse. Although I hadn’t bothered with a mirror yet, so the jury was still out on that one.
“Why’s it so cold in here?” I asked.
“I fixed your a/c.”
My body tensed. “You what?”
“Yeah, you were mumbling last night about it being broken and how you had to fix it.” I scrunched up my face. When had I done that? “So I took a look this morning and rigged something up.” He shrugged. “Simple enough. Took me all of five minutes.”
“But… but I was going to do that today!” I think my voice bordered on shouting but wasn’t sure if that’s just how it sounded inside my skull. “I was fully capable of fixing it myself.”
Chase held up his hands. “Settle down, Jillian. I know you’re capable. I just thought I’d help you out a bit, that’s all.”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
I stormed off back to my bedroom and slammed the door. I flopped on the bed, then curled into a ball. What was wrong with me? My PMS wasn’t set to kick in for another week yet. Was my reaction off-the-wall irrational? Possibly the way I’d expressed it, but damn it all to Hell; that was supposed to be my project, and he took it away from me.
I closed my eyes, needing that water desperately but needing to avoid Chase even more. He said he was leaving soon anyway. I’d drink then. I clenched my fists. He had no business staying over without asking me first. Dammit, I can take care of myself.
I peeked through my lids, thinking I heard a car door. I waited a few more minutes and then padded over to the window. Nothing in the driveway. When I glanced at my clock, I noticed it was… one o’clock? Holy shit, I never slept this late. I must have dozed off again. Well, at least I knew Chase was long gone.
My gut twisted. I physically felt like crap, and I deserved it. I’d acted like a bitch to him. I went out to the kitchen and got my water, drinking three glasses in rapid succession. I noticed the full coffee pot. I went over and palmed the glass. It was cold. He obviously made it several hours ago. I dumped it and started a new one.
Sunday. It was Sunday. Sometimes I worked if the mood struck, which happened more often than not. Today would not be one of those days. I was going to plant my lazy ass down and not do a thing. Except a shower. I felt just as grimy on the outside as I did on the inside.
I threw a frozen pizza into the oven before heading to the bathroom to scrub myself clean. I’d have to bow out of the family dinner later, and that also made me feel horrible. But I had to do it; I thought it best for everyone if I remained quarantined to the house for the day.
I turned the dial as scalding as I could take and stepped underneath the water. I didn’t know if I should cry or throw things or apologize. Technically, Chase didn’t do anything wrong, but who did he think he was taking it upon himself to go around fixing my things? Maybe I should just give him my busted toaster to tinker with or hand over my lawn mower that needed a tune-up. Did he think he was Mr. Handyboy?
Damn, Jillian. Chase was right. I needed to settle down, to look at it with a rational eye. I dumped a wad of shampoo in my hand and rubbed it into my scalp. The facts were clear: I wanted him for his body and what he could do with it. I did not want him to insert himself into my life. I didn’t want him to sleep over or help around the house. His cock. My pussy. End of story.
When I finished my shower, I scarfed down the majority of the pizza and topped it off with a couple cups of black coffee before I even made it out of the kitchen.
I turned on the radio, turned off the air conditioner, and stretched out on the couch. As I lay there, I came to the realization that yes, I was a bitch to him, and no, he didn’t deserve it. Especially after the way he made me feel the night before. But that also didn’t mean there shouldn’t be boundaries.
As long as Chase knew his place, everything would be just fine.
I woke bright and early on Monday morning, feeling like I’d regenerated a whole new body during the night. Nothing like having the sleep schedule of a feline to put a little spring back into your step.
My day of Sunday-slacking paid off, and I was more than ready to dive into work. I showered and got ready quickly, energy coursing through me even though I hadn’t had a drop of coffee yet.
I was about to start the routine of going around the house and switching on the fans until I remembered the air was working. I turned it on, hearing the click. It was still working. I decided to let it run for a while to cut down on the humidity; it was better for the house anyway.
Everything was moving right along until my coffee maker refused to work. Ugh. I unplugged it and plugged it back in, checked if it was clogged, knocked it around a little. Still nothing. Be careful what you wish for. The universe must have taken notice of me ranting yesterday and decided to deliver me a broken present to fix. Nice.
I sighed, then shook it off. It was really no big deal. I’d woken up early enough and had plenty of time to run out for coffee before I anchored myself to the office chair.
I grabbed my purse, hopped in the car, and was pulling back into my driveway with a twenty-ounce cup in nine minutes flat. As I neared closer to the garage, I noticed a box sitting on my front porch.
I parked and darted up the stairs, wondering exactly what I’d find. It seemed to be my day for gifts, which worried me just a bit. A small envelope was taped on top, so I peeled it off and held it up to the sunlight before opening it.
Argh, just open it already. I tugged the card free from the envelope and immediately went to the signature. Chase. My throat tightened. Up until that very moment, I hadn’t even entertained the thought that he was the sender. Why, I didn’t know, except that maybe I didn’t want him to be so I blocked out the possibility.
Jillian—My peace offering. I’m sorry for overstepping my bounds. Chase
I picked up the box and carried it inside. I looked it over well, then shook it. Clunk. I set it on the table, stared at it a while, then picked it back up and turned it upside down. Clunk. I did everything except open the damned thing.
Ridiculous. What exactly was I afraid of?
I grabbed scissors from the drawer and skimmed the blade along the top, breaking the tape. I pulled the cardboard apart and… Hot sauce?
I took the small bottle out and read the label: Lunacy Sauce. Was he trying to tell me something?
I grabbed the sauce and my coffee and went into my office. Should I keep an eye over my shoulder today? Maybe my next surprise would be a visit from the funny farm-mobile.
My accounts were organized in front of me, all the calls I needed to make lined up in order of importance. I had my coffee and was ready to kick ass, but….
Hot sauce?
I set my phone down, and my eyes had barely flicked over the computer screen before I heard the ding of a new text.
Is that what you call it? Hot sauce? he replied.
I examined the bottle again. My vision may not be as good as hindsight, but if it looks like a duck and quacks like one, it’s a damn duck.
It’s not???
No. What you have there is liquid gold. The screaming headliner in my fajita recipe.
I smiled big. So where are the opening acts?
Do you think I’d give it all up that easily? I’m not that kind of guy.
I’d been taking a deep sip from my cup when his text had come in, and I almost sprayed it all over my desk. After I had finished coughing, I started to laugh, and it took me a while to stop. It felt good.
Thank you. My fingers stilled, and I inhaled a heavy dose o
f air. It was time to suck it up and apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry, Chase. I had no right to go ballistic on you. You were just trying to do something nice.
I stared at the screen, drumming my fingers on the desk, waiting for a response.
Apology accepted.
I set the phone aside and downed the rest of my coffee before getting to work. I scheduled a few meetings between candidates and their respective new offices. I billed clients and checked in with prospective hires. I had put in a solid four hours before I heard the ding.
What time can I pick you up on Saturday?
I flattened my lips together. Saturday? Was there something going on I didn’t know about?
To take you out to dinner, he followed up a few minutes later.
Was he still stuck on that? It’d come back to me earlier, the memory of Chase tricking me into saying yes, but I was planning on him not holding me to it.
Your methods were devious. It wasn’t fair to ask me during my post-orgasmic coma.
I asked you before that. You just didn’t answer. But now you have me fantasizing about your orgasms. After dinner I promise to give you the best one of your life.
I closed my eyes and blew out a hard puff of breath. He already had. Chase was going to make it really difficult for me to concentrate on work for the rest of the day.
We can just skip all that and go straight to the after.
He didn’t respond right away, so my hopes were high that he’d agreed. Five minutes later, I got a simple: No.
Dammit. I’d rather you just come over again, Chase. I can cook this time. I really don’t have anything to wear out.
Okay, that sounded like a lame excuse, but there was truth to it. My stuff was either casual or fancy with not a whole lot in between. And I was not wearing one of Perry’s outfits that could double as a paper doll cutout.
You already gave me that excuse. Sorry, not gonna work.
What? When?
You’re cute when you talk in your sleep. Informative too.
My entire face torched up. What the hell is he talking about? This could be bad, really bad. He was bluffing, had to be. Trying to rile me. But I did mention my lack of clothing choices and my broken air conditioner with no recollection. Oh, shit! What else did I say?
Get back to work. And rest up, Wild Horses.
Wild Horses? I must have glared at my phone for fifteen minutes before shoving it into the desk drawer. I didn’t reply, and he didn’t send anything else. I could waste the whole day thinking about my runaway mouth, but the only place that would lead me would be into a hole. I’d be better off lazing on my back porch and watching the wildlife again.
I gave my phone some company and teamed it up with the Lunacy Sauce, joining them together in the drawer. I had a business to run, and I was not going to allow Chase to distract me any longer.
No matter how delicious I imagined his sauce to be.
The rest of the week went by smoothly and uneventfully. I didn’t hear another peep from Chase, and since we hadn’t nailed down a time for Saturday, I started to believe he’d had a change of heart.
Until Friday.
On Friday, I began my pre-work day with the usual routine: Up early, shower, coffee run (since my machine was still on the fritz), and a front porch check. I was hoping he’d send more ingredients. I really, really wanted that recipe.
There was indeed a package on my porch that morning, but it was not what I was expecting. Instead of being a small, brown box, it reminded me of something that Daniel would jump up and down for, thinking Barney had left him a present. It was big and purple.
I carried it inside and shook it, of course, but there was a whoosh this time instead of a clunk. Maybe he’d written down the entire recipe on a good old-fashioned index card and buried it within mounds of paper, just to be sneaky. He was good at that.
I sliced open the sides and popped the top off. There was a note inside, sitting on top of tissue paper.
No excuses. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 7:00.
I’d worry about that later. I tossed the card on the table, then waded through gobs of crepe paper. There was lots of it, like he’d saved every last bit from birthdays and Christmases and stuffed it all inside. I rummaged through the layers until a sliver of lavender caught my eye.
I paused for a minute. This couldn’t be what I thought it was. No way. My hands went back in and pulled out a gorgeous lavender sundress. Drop neck. High-low hem. Flirty as hell. I think I glazed over for a bit and went completely blank. I put the dress back in the box, pulled it out, put it back. To say I was confused was stating it mildly.
Number One: Why couldn’t it have been slutty lingerie instead? That would have been more appropriate.
Number Two: How in the name of all that’s good and decent did Chase know I was coveting this very same dress? How could he have possibly picked out the exact same one I was swooning over? No one is that good.
Perry.
Steam blowing out of the ears was not just for cartoons. There was a fireball sitting on top of my shoulders. Fortunately, my phone leaped into my hand and dialed for me, which was handy since my eyes were smoked out.
Goddammit, Perry. You promised.
“Hello.”
My brother’s groggy voice threw me off. “Shit, Stephen. I’m sorry. I’m trying to reach Perry.”
I heard a “Here, it’s Jillian” and then Perry’s equally groggy voice, “Hey, Jills. What’s up?”
“Was Stephen up all night?”
“Kinda.”
Dammit. “Tell him sorry again.” My brother was frequently called during the night and had to drag himself out of bed to deal with systems crashing and all kinds of urgent work crap. No different than any other time of the day, but at least then he was coherent. “But, why are you still home? I called your phone because I thought you’d left for the day.”
“I’m going in later.”
“All right. Just call me back right away when you’re up.”
“You already got me up, Jills. Talk now.”
I took a deep breath. “Before I start making accusations, please explain to me how Chase knew about the lavender dress.”
“What dress now?”
“The dress at Summerfest. The one I loved. You told me I should get it. Chase bought it for me. How did he know, Perry?”
One second. Two seconds. Three—
“Holy fuckballs! Chase bought you that dress?”
She almost blew out my eardrum. “Shhh, keep it down. Isn’t Stephen—”
“Who’s Chase?” I heard in the background. Just great. “Wait, isn’t he… Fuck, Jillian. Why’s he buying you a dress?”
“Down, Fido,” Perry said. “They’re friends. No problem.”
“Perry—”
“Of course, there’s a problem,” Stephen said. I started pacing around the room, ready to whack my phone against the wall. “Guys his age don’t have their shit together, and they sure as hell shouldn’t be buying my sister any dresses.”
Should I just hang up? Let them have this conversation without me? “Jillian, you listening?” my brother continued. “Are you encouraging him? If so, that’s fucked up.”
“Nothing’s fucked up, you crabby ass. Go back to sleep,” Perry yelled back.
I heard some shuffling around, and Stephen said something else, but it was too muted to make out.
“Okay, Jills. Had to leave the room. Now, back to this dress. Holy fuck, do you know what this means?”
“According to what you told my brother, it means nothing.”
“Well, yeah. You told me not to say anything to him.” Forget the phone; I wanted to smack my head into the wall. Didn’t she realize her big mouth already had?
“Perry, you… Never mind. Were you or were you not the one who told Chase about the dress?”
“Of course not! I swore I wouldn’t help anymore, and I meant it. I don’t know how he knew something like that. Got lucky, I guess.”
/> “I wouldn’t call it help, and your ‘got lucky’ theory sounds pretty impossible.” I sat down at my desk and thrummed my fingers against the hard wood. “So, it really wasn’t you?”
“That’s what I said. Weren’t you listening?”
“I…” I didn’t know what to think. It hadn’t been off-base to assume Perry was involved, but now I was back to a dead end.
“Bottom line, Jills: You’re not just a pump and dump to him, and you need to accept that.”
“What?”
“He’s feeling something for you. Why don’t you just ask him about the dress?”
“It’s just meaningless sex, and I’m giving the dress back.” I opened the freezer to grab a few ice cubes to dump into my now tepid coffee.
“Like hell it is, and like hell you should.”
“I’m relieved to know you weren’t involved, Perry, but you—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don’t understand. Give me a break, Jills. I probably understand better than both you and Stephen rolled together. Look, we’ll talk about this later, okay? Your brother’s trying to get up, and we need to get in a quickie first. But in the meantime, don’t do anything stupid.”
“My stupid or your stupid?”
“Something-you’ll-regret stupid.”
Several hours passed, and I must have picked up my phone and set it back down a hundred times. I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to call him, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it. It’d be easier to text, but I didn’t think that would solve anything. The box sat at my feet, and every so often, I’d open it up and peek at the dress. I even had it in my hands once, ready to dash off and try it on, but luckily came to my senses. If I hadn’t, something crazy might have happened. I might have decided to keep it.
I leaned my head back on the chair. My regular, productive day was sucking into a black hole. My mind could not focus worth shit.
The dress needed to go back to him, that much was clear. It was way too personal. His role was to remove my clothing, not add to it. I tapped my fingers against my chin. I knew he lived on the east side, and I could probably find an address, but I didn’t want to go there and deal with his roommates. I could take it to school. He taught on Fridays.
