by Lavinia Kent
“Hardly. I’ll admit that I wasn’t a choirboy, but I was far from as wild as some of the guys. And besides, I don’t think Veronica is aware of who I am. All she knows is that I’m a dog walker. I think she honestly wondered if I was working at the Petersens’ party.”
“Working?”
“As a waiter.”
“Surely not. How could anyone not know— And I’ll answer my own question. Women really can be as clueless about sports as the stereotype. I don’t imagine Veronica Anderson has done much of anything except study and work since she was a girl.”
“She said something about that herself. I know she works hard, which is all the more reason why a little play shouldn’t hurt.” He glanced at his own pile of books. “And I could use some fun too. We do have studying and work in common.”
Aunt Mols took a moment to reply. “As long as you’re sure. That girl has been through enough in her life without some playboy player deciding to dabble.”
He leaned across and patted her hand, resisting the urge to ask for details. If he was going to learn about Veronica, it was going to be from Veronica herself. “I promise to be careful. I have no intention of hurting her.”
Chapter 14
She was not going to text him again. One did not keep an affair casual by getting together three days in a row, although given the hours she’d be working in the next couple of weeks, it wasn’t like there were a lot of other choices for when to see him. It really was tonight or never—or at least probably not until next weekend.
And he was just so easy to spend time with. She might have her own worries about their relationship, but they never seemed to affect the time they had together.
Sorry I fell asleep, she typed.
You’re cute when you snore.
She did not snore. That was Baxter.
If you say so.
I know it wasn’t what you came over for.
This time he was slow to reply.
Had she scared him off?
Finally, I didn’t come over for sex. I came over to see you.
And now it was her turn to freeze. What did she say to that? She wasn’t supposed to want more, and yet she had to admit it felt good that he wanted to see her, that he wasn’t upset she’d fallen asleep.
I like seeing you too. She typed it fast, without giving herself a chance to back out.
Another long pause.
I was wondering, when you didn’t reply to my note.
Damn you, Baxter. It may have become dog food. Actually the truth. Did she dare ask him what it had said? Probably not. Shit.
Sounds like Baxter. I’ve noticed he has a paper fetish.
That’s my boy.
A long pause, then, How would you feel about some sunset yoga?
She drew in a long breath. Would you be okay if I just watched? I wore myself out this morning.
Ah, that’s what happens when you go running without me.
How…?
You were right about there being no secrets in a small town.
It was the first time I’ve gone in a month. #Overambitious
I feel you. Okay, you can watch and then maybe we can pick up something to eat.
Hmm. Dinner. Did that make it an actual date? She hadn’t truthfully thought beyond sitting on the sand and watching Brian move. Not even about the sex—although, of course, as soon as she thought that, her mind took off. We’ll figure it out.
Fine. See you at sunset.
Well, that was good. Now she just had to determine what time sunset was.
Her phone buzzed again. She looked down eagerly.
Charlotte. Shit.
Did you finish the McKellan brief?
I told you it’s not due until Tuesday—and why do you care.
I want to look it over first.
What was this about? Charlotte had nothing to do with the case, a complicated real estate transaction. I am giving it to Brooks on Tuesday. You can ask him for it.
She waited but there was no further reply.
* * *
—
“Oh my God,” Brian exclaimed as he lay back across her living room rug. “I always forget how much I love fresh fish and chips—and then I forget how I feel after I eat them. I think you may need a crane to lift me.”
“They are good.” Veronica licked her fingers, savoring the remaining remnants of fat and salt. Her eyes flicked over Brian. His lips were marked with salt and grease, and she was sure that they’d be even tastier than her own fingers. Of course, that would require moving, and although she hadn’t eaten anywhere near as much as he had, she definitely needed a few minutes. “It also happens to me when I eat and walk. I don’t realize quite how much I’m having until it’s too late and then…It’s why I normally don’t buy food from takeout windows. It crashes my diet—and I have a wedding to think about. I don’t want all of Charlotte’s friends looking at the photos and commenting on my weight.”
He rolled on his side, staring at her. “Women. I can promise that men never do that. And it’s not like you’re the bride. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at a picture of a friend and commented on his weight. Seriously, I’m trying to think of one, of somebody I hadn’t seen since high school or somebody that was sick or had some huge weight change—and I can’t. It’s just not something I think about when I look at people.”
“You mean when you look at men.”
“Honestly, I don’t think about it much with either sex. If someone looks good, they look good. I mean, I like healthy, but that’s more about being active than about weight. And I’ve never been drawn to skinny girls—at least not since high school. It’s one thing to look like you’re fifteen when you’re actually fifteen and another when you’re twenty-five. I have no desire to have sex with teenagers.”
“Well.” She rolled on her back to stare at the ceiling, patted her belly. It was still a slightly sensitive subject, but she was prepared to hit it head-on. “That’s good, because you may not have noticed, but I’m not a teenager.”
“I should have some smart comeback for that, but I don’t, beyond saying that I’m glad.”
“Are you? I am trying not to be sensitive about it. I never thought I’d care, but I have to admit I find it a little strange dating a younger man.”
“I honestly don’t think about it. You’re who you are and I like that. You wouldn’t be the same you if you were younger.”
Did he really see it that simply? “That will do for an answer. And maybe you don’t think about weight because you’ve never had to worry about it. I think that’s what makes it harder for women.” She waved a hand at him. “You’re perfect, so you don’t worry. I bet you’ve never passed up fish and chips because you were worried about calories.”
He laughed so hard it brought him to sitting. “You’re crazy. I’ve probably spent more time worrying about what I eat than you have. I worry not only about the calories, but also about the protein, the carbs, the types of carbs, the fats—are they healthy? How big a percentage of the whole meal are they? How much am I working out today? Tomorrow? And I admit that in a year I probably spend almost as much time worrying about keeping weight on as taking it off, but I have to make sure it’s the right type of weight.” He patted the tight muscles of his stomach where they peeked out above his shorts. “You may say you see perfection. I see a machine that I have to fuel just right if I want it to run the way I desire. Have you ever eaten nothing but tuna fish, eggs, chicken breasts and salad for two weeks? With maybe some fruit for a real treat?”
“I think I missed that diet. I’ve done nothing but juice for a few days—didn’t care for that at all. I’m definitely a girl who likes her food.” She stroked a well-padded hip. “As you can tell.”
“Well, you don’t seem to be the type to starve yourself, but that’s a good thing. I
was once briefly involved with someone with an eating disorder, and even before I knew what the story was, I knew that she spent a lot more time thinking about food than she did about me.”
“What happened?”
He stayed sitting, wrapping his arms about his knees. “Nothing, really. I mean, we weren’t ever that involved. I only knew she had a problem because her roommate was dating one of my friends. We just didn’t have anything in common. I did hear she was going to get help, but I admit I didn’t follow up.”
“I guess that makes sense. You weren’t going to keep dating her because she had an eating disorder.”
“I’m not sure I even knew when we broke up. I may have found out later and it had a bunch of things make sense. And I’m not quite sure how we ended up talking about Gwen.”
“I think you were trying to assure me that I wasn’t too fat for you.”
“As if you were worried about that. If anything, I was saying that I much prefer to be with somebody who eats than somebody who doesn’t. Even when I was the most worried about my diet, I didn’t want to watch somebody eat a plate of lettuce with lemon.” He pushed to his feet, holding back the groan as his knee straightened. “Can I get you a drink? I confess I’m thinking water. If I have a beer after all that food, I’ll be back on the floor, asleep.”
“I’d love water—or tea. In fact, I’d really like a cup of tea. Let me make it. Would you like some?” Her stomach wasn’t happy when she heaved herself off the couch, but the thought of hot tea drew her.
“I’m happy with water. Nothing against tea, but right now the cold crispness of water is what I want. The colder the better.”
“I have plenty of ice.”
He followed her to the kitchen. “That gives me lots of ideas that I’m too full to pursue—for now.”
She shivered, her mind filling with dozens of pictures. “I should protest, but I feel the same. I’ve never been so sexually attracted to someone, and so happy to just hang around.” Not that she could remember ever being this attracted to someone. “Why did I not predict that watching you do yoga—which truly was worth it—would lead to my wanting to go to bed, and do nothing but sleep for a week?”
“I couldn’t resist the smell of frying fish. It brought back memories and I had to have it.”
“That I understand. There’s something about walking on Main Street, near the old fishing piers, that always makes me remember being a child. I used to beg my mother for money to buy penny candy. She would bribe me to be quiet on the beach. For every ten minutes I let her read, I’d get a penny.”
“Sounds like you had a smart mother.”
“Yeah, she was the best. She certainly didn’t deserve my father, or the way he looked down on her.”
Brian gave her an off look. “That must have been rough. Aunt Mols said you’d been through a lot, but I didn’t inquire. I wanted to hear it from you—assuming that you want to tell me.”
Was she ready to tell him about her dad and her early life? “I’ve told you some of it, a bit about my parents. My mom was from here, from Forbidden Cove. A real townie. She met my dad on the beach one summer. I don’t think he thought about her life beyond thinking that she was exotic. Then she got pregnant.” She filled the kettle and put it on the stove. “I like my tea made the real way, with boiling water. It never tastes right from the microwave.”
Brian reached out and placed a hand on her cheek, turning her face to him. He stared into her eyes. “There are chemical reasons for that, if that’s what you want to talk about.”
She turned her face back to the kettle, waiting for it to boil. “It’s good to know I’m right, even if you see through my momentary attempt at distraction. Maybe I should try another one—remind you that we were going to talk about you, you were going to tell me what you are studying for.” She turned back to face him.
“We are just getting to know each other. I am happy to be the one to talk, if that’s what you want.” He reached out again and brushed her cheek, pushing back a dark curl.
She could see that he meant it, which made her feel like a coward. She wasn’t sure why she was avoiding telling him more of her story. There was nothing shameful in it and it explained so much about her. “No, I’ll talk. I think I simply took myself off guard. I hadn’t really considered that this would be the night I shared my soul—assuming I ever did. I mean, I thought we’d be having sex now, but clearly I need a little more time to digest before I’ll feel at all sexy.”
Brian patted his stomach. It bulged slightly, beneath the muscles. “Normally I’d try to persuade you that we could talk after sex, but realistically I need a little bit of time too.”
“So does that mean you want me to keep rambling?”
“I am not sure that I call it rambling.” He sipped his water. “And I’m willing to tell you about myself if you prefer. But I admit, I’d be just as happy to lie on the couch and listen to you talk.”
“Okay?” She hadn’t intended that to sound like a question.
He stroked her cheek again. “Look, I really meant it. If you don’t want to talk about your parents, that’s fine. I mean, it’s not something I normally interrogate my dates about.”
He’d called her his date. Why did she like it? “No, I am making a big deal about nothing.”
“I am fine with not talking. Should we listen to music or watch TV?”
“Is that what you want?”
He shrugged. “I can’t say it’s the top of my list.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“If I say whatever you do, will you find that annoying?”
The kettle began to whistle.
She poured water from it and let her tea begin to steep. What did she want? She didn’t want him to leave, that she knew. “I think I could handle just looking at you—although it wouldn’t hurt if you took your shirt off.” She grinned suddenly. “I think what I’d really like is to take a nap—and I do mean a nap—with shirtless you.”
“The shirt is staying on until I’ve digested a bit more. And aren’t you afraid you’ll fall asleep for the whole night?” He did not sound opposed to the idea.
“Only a little. I could turn on the TV in my bedroom and we could watch something mindless and doze for a while. I have a feeling that with you in my bed, it won’t be long before I feel like doing something besides sleep—even if you still have your shirt on.”
“Just the thought of being in your bed has me wondering if I actually need to sleep.”
She slapped his arm. “Don’t think that way, at least not yet. I want to be at my best when I take advantage of you.”
“You took advantage of me last time. I think it’s my turn to take advantage of you. You’ve shown that you can give orders, but can you take them?”
Despite the fullness in her belly, her innards quivered in a most delightful way. Maybe she hadn’t had quite as much to eat as she thought. “I’ve always been better at being in charge than taking orders. I’m a bit of a control freak. I like to understand what’s going to happen.”
“You don’t like surprises?”
She dunked the tea bag a couple of times. “I didn’t say that—although maybe I don’t. I’m not sure I’ve had a lot of experience with good ones. I think most of the surprises in my life have been unpleasant.”
He pursed his lips. “And I bet that was more profound than you meant it to be, more revealing.”
She took her first sip of the hot brew, almost—but not quite—too hot to swallow. “I don’t know what it is about you. Maybe I do need to talk—assuming I won’t bore you.” She turned and walked to the stairs that led up to her bedroom. It took up the whole upper floor, other than the attached bath. “Follow along, maybe we can snuggle in my bed and I’ll tell you the story of my life. For some reason, I want to tell you things I don’t tell anyone. Does that ha
ppen to you a lot?”
He stopped at the head of the stairs, looking thoughtful. “You know, I can’t say that it does. I mean, I’m never the last guy to know what’s going on, but I’m also not someone people normally tell their secrets to.”
“I guess it’s me, then. I feel so comfortable around you.” She stepped fully into her bedroom.
He stopped and stared about. His jaw wasn’t hanging open, but it wasn’t far from it.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
He shut his mouth. “No, just not what I was expecting. I know I was here before, but it was dark and I didn’t really see it.”
“And what were you expecting?” She placed a hand on each hip.
“I don’t know, something sleek and modern. All white with red trim or maybe leather.”
“Did you think I was inviting you to my dungeon?”
“Do you have one?” He smiled. “No, it’s only that this is so…”
“So…?”
“Homey. I mean, you have handmade quilts and crocheted doilies.”
“You make it sound like it’s your maiden aunt’s room.”
That made him laugh. “You’ve met my aunt. Do you seriously think there’s a doily anywhere in her house? Hell, I don’t even know why I know the word doily.”
She still wasn’t quite sure what he was saying. “Do you mean that I’m more old-fashioned than Mrs. Clouster?”
He stopped laughing, but continued to grin. “Would that be so bad? Oh, I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just that there’s honestly nothing old-fashioned about her. I think her past would put either of ours to shame—and not simply because hers is longer. She may be somewhat settled down now, but it’s been a fun ride.”
Veronica pictured Mrs. Clouster and her baggy gingham shorts and tried to see the truth in what he said. It was hard to imagine. “I’ll take that as a fact and not be insulted, but I’m still not sure what you mean about my bedroom. I don’t think it’s that different than the rest of the house.” She looked about at the colorful quilts and warm maple furniture.
