by Leddy Harper
I slid my hands up her outer thighs, running my palms over her smooth legs until I reached her shorts, and then took hold of her waist. But I didn’t move her. Instead, I kept her where she was, only flexed my fingers so she couldn’t forget where I touched her.
“What are my options?” I tried to make my voice husky and sultry like she did, but I doubted it worked. In my head, I sounded like a twelve-year-old boy getting ready to dive into the most exciting experience in this lifetime. There were some things women could do well that men had no business attempting, and phone-sex voice was one of them.
“Good Will Humping.” She widened her legs to pull herself closer to me, and breathing became difficult. “Legally Boned.” When she rolled her hips toward me, I had to close my eyes. Which did nothing to block her assault when she lowered her mouth to my ear and whispered, “Whorey Potter.”
It was now or never. I tightened my hold on her hips and flipped her onto her back, and then pulled myself over her. I couldn’t look at her, knowing the competition would end if I did, so I kept my cheek pressed against hers and used my other senses to assess the situation. Like the way her chest heaved with exertion, as if falling onto the couch from a sitting position wore her out. Her heart thrashed inside her chest, ricocheting against mine. But nothing affected her as much as when I rotated my hips to cause friction between our legs.
“I’d much rather prefer watching Missionary Impossible,” I whispered against her neck.
“That’s a good one.” Her voice sounded strained, like the words were forced out.
Nearing the breaking point, I pushed up with my forearms to hover over her and met her heated stare. “It seems we’re both incredibly stubborn, and there’s a good chance I’ll wind up balls-deep in you before either of us caves. We can either keep this up or both agree to give up at the same time.”
“Keep it going.”
I groaned and closed my eyes, knowing I’d have to be the one to put an end to it. I didn’t like losing, but this went beyond my need for victory. Being between the legs of a woman—especially one named Janelle—and calling it quits would cost me a handful of points on the man-meter. If the reason had nothing to do with whiskey dick or lack of protection, I basically deserved to bury my head in the sand.
I opened my eyes and found hers, shining back at me, full of challenge. “As appealing as that sounds, it’s not a good idea. At all. You’re here for a divorce, right? Starting something up between us would only complicate that.”
As if her need for me was nothing more than an act, she fluttered her eyes and pushed against my chest. “Fine. We both win—or lose, depending on how you look at it. But good game, York. I didn’t expect you to take a play from my book, especially so soon after I played it.”
I sat back and let her pull herself to a seated position at the end of the couch, where she grabbed the remote off the table and began flipping through the channels. With my hands cupped over my erection, I stood and headed toward my room.
“Where are you going? I thought we were going to watch a movie.” She giggled to herself and shook her head, turning her attention back to the screen on the wall in front of her. “Oh, yeah. You should probably put on clothes to cover that.”
“Actually, I’m headed to take a cold shower and ice my bruised ego.”
“What happened to your ego? You’re the one who stopped this.”
Pausing at my door, I called out over my shoulder, “You could’ve at least acted distraught for a few minutes, maybe pretended to be a little upset.”
Her laughter floated over me as I locked myself in my room and prepared to finish what we’d started—only this time, alone.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, it seemed Janelle was on a roll. By the end of the week, I didn’t think I stood a chance anymore and started to question if bringing her back for her family was worth it. I didn’t even want to look at the scorecard, knowing I was not in the lead—not even close.
Monday after work, I came home and found her finishing up whatever dinner she’d made for herself. She stood at the sink and rinsed the bowl, while I rummaged through the fridge, searching for anything to fill my empty stomach.
“You know…it’d be nice to have supper ready to eat when I got home. I mean, it doesn’t have to be coming out of the oven as soon as I pull into the driveway, but what good is it to have a stay-at-home wife when I still have to make my own food after busting my ass all day in the office?” I’d meant it partly as a joke, but in all honesty, I was serious about how nice it would’ve been to come home to something to eat.
“Are you seriously suggesting I cook dinner for you, and then serve it to you when you get home? You’re sadly mistaken if you think having me here would be similar to ordering a wife through a catalog.” She threw her head back and released a bellowing laugh.
“No. I think you’re my wife who’s living in my house for free, and considering we both need to eat something around this time every day—that bowl you’re cleaning proves my point—I figured it wouldn’t hurt if you made enough for two.”
She huffed but didn’t object, so I left behind a grocery list on the counter before I left for work the next day, along with cash to cover it, and came home to a fully—overly—stocked kitchen. She definitely got every item on the list, so I didn’t have much room to complain. I’d asked for milk, but apparently, she needed me to specify which kind, and “there were so many options ranging from whole to reduced fat, and then the soy, cashew, and almond varieties, I just got them all to make sure you had what you wanted.” I now had an entire shelf dedicated to every option of milk one could imagine. Although, rather than grumble, I simply smiled, thanked her, and said, “At least I won’t have to worry about a calcium deficiency.”
As for dinner, I did come home to something to eat every night.
Much like the milk debacle, I wasn’t specific enough.
It seemed I was looking at six months’ worth of ham sandwiches for supper.
But again, I didn’t protest. I made sure to thank her every single night and tell her how amazing it was. She more than likely expected me to have some comment, but I didn’t give her anything. Honestly, had we not been against each other, I would’ve given her a high-five and bragged to everyone I knew about how devious she was. But we weren’t partners, and I was the one who ended up on the wrong end of that conspiracy.
With everything that had gone on last weekend—Ronnie showing up at my house, finding out that fucker had been there, the family drama Sunday evening, and then the underwear-on-the-couch scheme that blew up in my face that night—I’d totally forgotten about the package being delivered.
The original one, the one I’d made her stay home to sign, never existed. But after I got back from the lake and noticed she’d cleaned the house, I felt bad, and before going to sleep that night, I’d ordered something so I wouldn’t look like I’d lied, and she wouldn’t feel as though she’d stayed home for nothing. There was only one problem—I’d forgotten all about it.
After devouring my home-cooked peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner on Thursday, I sat on the couch and played a round of poker on my phone while she lounged on the loveseat with her face in a book. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she dropped her feet from the coffee table and jumped up. Returning about a minute later from her room, she held up a small brown box.
“Something was delivered for you today.”
I exited the app and locked my phone, giving her my undivided attention. “Oh, good. I’m glad it finally got here. It’s only a few days late, huh?”
“Funny thing…I didn’t have to sign for it.”
“Huh.” I ran my hand along my jaw in mock intrigue, praying like hell I didn’t lose yet another battle. “That’s strange. But you know how those delivery guys can be. So many things going on they probably didn’t even think about it. Oh well. At least it got here.”
Even though I held my hand out for her to give it to me, she refused. With one fist pe
rched on her hip and the other holding up the small box as if it were evidence in a murder trial, on display for the jury, she cocked her head and continued. “Yeah…except UPS didn’t drop it off. It came with the regular mail.”
“Damn. I guess I mixed that whole thing up, didn’t I?”
“Well, you see, I opened the package—”
“Which is a federal offense.”
“I’m your wife. Sue me.” She flashed an arrogant grin and went on. “I just wanted to see if it was the watch you had ordered, the one you expected to come last Saturday, because if it was, I planned to raise hell over the delay of the delivery, as well as the lack of signature required. And you know what I found on the packing slip, Holden?”
At this juncture, there really was no point in doing anything other than sitting back and scrutinizing the show. So rather than keep up the pretense, I shrugged and let her finish.
“It seems the watch wasn’t even ordered until Saturday. What I don’t know is…did you order it before or after making me stay home all day instead of going out on the boat and having fun with my brother?”
It seemed I’d reached the proverbial fork in the road. I could’ve come up with some kind of lie, or at the very least, something to prolong it and give me more time. Or I could’ve told her the truth, that I made her stay behind to get back at her for something I claimed didn’t bother me. It was a tough decision to make, but in the end, I did what was best.
I glanced at my phone, pressed the home button until it lit up, and said, “Oh, hold on. I have to take this.” I then held it up to my ear and pulled myself from the couch. “Hey, so good to hear from you. Listen, give me a sec, I have to go to the other room.”
I made it five steps away from my bedroom door before the universe proved how much it hated me. With my phone to my ear, in the middle of talking, the damn thing rang. Luckily, I had my back to Janelle, but that didn’t end her maniacal laughter that followed me into my room, even long after I closed the door behind me.
Still, none of that stopped me from spending the day on Saturday with her.
“Tennis shoes? You want me to wear tennis shoes? Where are you taking me?” Her shrill voice coupled with her wide eyes made me laugh.
“I already told you—it’s a surprise. But I swear, there won’t be any running. Or jogging. Or even fast-paced walking. I’m suggesting sneakers because we will be walking—leisurely,” I added to keep her from freaking out. “And I don’t want you to get blisters.”
“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?” she muttered under her breath on her way back to her room to grab different shoes. By the time she rejoined me in the living room, she seemed less than impressed and even less excited about the surprise I had planned.
I’d always loved being outdoors, whether for a run, out on the lake, tossing around a ball…anything. It didn’t matter the reason. If the sun was out, I wanted to be, as well. But Janelle was the opposite. She blamed it on being the youngest and never having kids her age in the neighborhood, which kept her inside most of her childhood, and therefore, groomed her to be the indoorsy woman she is today. However, that didn’t prevent me from finding something to do with her that would appeal to both of our desires. It may have been hard, but not impossible.
“Come on, Jelly. Look, there’s a bench right up there. Let’s just go a little more and then we can take a break.” She stood about ten feet behind me, hunched over with her hands on her knees, panting like she’d just climbed a mountain.
“You did this to get back at me, didn’t you? I can’t believe a word you say anymore.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, which turned out to be the wrong thing to do. It only irritated her more. “Janelle, babe, I’m not getting back at you for anything. I swear. I really did think this would be something fun we could do together.”
“Fun?” Her anger only served to make it that much more entertaining. “We’re outside, Holden…babe,” she spat and finally walked toward me. “It’s hot and I’m sweaty and there are bugs. Bugs, Holden. What about a nature hike made you think I would enjoy it? Admit it, you did this to even the score after the air freshener incident.”
My laughter turned to cackles when she reminded me of that. A few days ago, I’d made some comment about an odor in the house. I had no idea what caused it, but something had left a muted stench inside. I never asked her to deal with it or make it go away, nor did I ever accuse her of being the cause. Yet that didn’t stop her from taking matters into her own hands. In every room, she plugged in air fresheners, which would’ve been great had they all been the same scent. Then she lit candles—again, all different fragrances. As soon as I’d walked in after work that evening, I was assaulted by a migraine-inducing aroma war. While I slept, I was convinced I was in Hawaii surrounded by lavender and brown sugar with clean sheets waving in the breeze. As if that wasn’t a bad enough combination, there were also whiffs of cinnamon and baked goods.
I hadn’t found it funny at the time, especially when I had to deal with a mammoth-sized headache, but Janelle made it better when she disposed of all but a couple air freshener plug-ins. She never admitted to why she got rid of it all, but I chose to believe she’d done it for me. What I’m sure started out as a way of being a royal smartass turned into something far worse, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she felt bad about it. Regardless of why she aired out the house, I was just thankful she had. And now I could laugh at it.
“Janelle,” I finally said after composing myself. “It’s not a hike. In fact, there is no hiking involved. This is a nature trail, meant for leisurely walking and enjoyment.”
“I swear to God, Holden, if you say leisurely one more time, I’m gonna leisurely punch you in the throat.”
I held up both hands in surrender. “The trail is even covered with trees—from start to finish. I looked into it before planning to bring you here, because I know you hate the sun.”
“I hate the heat. Which is derived from the sun, but not always the same thing.”
“I’m sorry. I wanted to spend the day with you and do something we’d both like. I thought finding a place we could enjoy a…laidback stroll would be fun. There’s this creek-slash-tiny river, trees, birds, pretty flowers.”
Her expression softened, and so did her tone when she said, “I’m sorry. I really thought you dragged me out here to be a dick and pay me back for all the shit I’ve given you this week. I didn’t know you truly wanted to hang out. I appreciate the time you spent thinking of this. Now…let’s get to that bench.” And with that, she walked ahead of me and took a seat at the observation area.
I joined her and stared off at the greenish-looking water in front of us. I suddenly saw this place through her eyes. Once I stepped out of the blissful bubble of us finally spending real time together, I was able to see this place with a renewed sense of sight, and I wouldn’t have doubted if those bird sounds were filtered in through a speaker somewhere. The water was stale, and I was sure the only living thing in it was bacteria. What I imagined to be flowers turned out to be weeds, and I’d probably lost more blood to mosquitoes today than I did when I split my head open as a kid.
“I can see now how you convinced me to marry you,” she teased without looking at me.
“Wait…what?” I angled my body to face her, utterly shocked over her statement. “First of all, I didn’t convince you of anything. It was all your idea.”
“Mine?” She turned to me with confusion lining her brow, probably mirroring my own surprise. “Why the hell would I suggest we get married? That makes no sense. You know I don’t remember it, so you’re probably making this whole thing up, knowing I can’t disprove it.”
“Not at all. I swear. We were in front of the Bellagio when you brought it up.”
“How did I bring it up?”
For whatever reason, I never anticipated having to explain this to her. I knew she had no recollection of that night—no matter how much it pained me to admit that—but I gu
ess I never thought we’d have this conversation. With a long sigh, I resigned myself to revisiting that night all over again, and giving her the details her brain had blocked out.
“Well, we were making out. I think I might’ve said something about not wanting to ever stop kissing you, and you suggested we get married. At first I thought you were joking, but as it turned out, you were very serious.”
“What were my reasons?”
I couldn’t keep eye contact with her while I told her this, and I didn’t know why. It was nothing bad, and nothing she would hate me for, but it just felt awkward to look at her while explaining why we got married. “We both said we’d likely never make it down the aisle. Then you brought up some book you read about two friends who agreed to marry each other by whatever age if they were both single, and before I knew it, we had made the same pact. But somehow, it went from ‘in ten years’ to ‘right now.’ It made sense at the time.”
“How the hell did that make sense? At any time?” Her high-pitched voice broke the romantic spell I’d been under while traveling down memory lane. It was as if thinking back on that night caused soft music to play in the background and a familiar warmth to settle over me. But as soon as she spoke up, reality came crashing back, and I realized that warmth was nothing but the summer heat and the soft music was really a group of people behind us murmuring to themselves while the birds chirped.
“Well, we got along, we were friends, and we trusted each other. Rather than wait a few years until you graduated from college, it made more sense to go ahead and do it so that when you got home, we wouldn’t have to make a big deal about it. We both discussed how big weddings were a waste of money, and even though we thought Matt and Christine’s was small and nicely done, it still seemed like too much of an effort neither of us were willing to make. Plus, taking care of it then would’ve eliminated the chances of your mom taking over. You even said if we waited, we’d end up eloping anyway because you wouldn’t be able to take her meddling.”