by Lisa Suzanne
I finally hit the call button.
“Hi, darling girl,” my mom answered.
“Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. Nothing new, really. Dad’s thinking about a fishing trip next weekend and we’re both just wondering why we haven’t heard from our daughter in almost a month.”
I sighed. I forgot to prepare myself for the inevitable guilt trip. I loved my parents to death, but I only called a few times a month for a reason. “I’m sorry, Mom. Things have been crazy busy at school. I’m on a few new committees and I’m feeling the pressure of prepping kids for the AP test and I left Richard today.”
Silence met me on the other end of the phone, and Jesse appeared in my doorway at that very moment, leaning on the frame. I was suddenly very glad I hadn’t shut the door. The view from my position on the bed was quite lovely. He saw that I was on the phone, and he winked at me and turned to give me privacy. I wished he had stayed so I had something nice to look at during what would surely be a difficult conversation.
“Repeat that last part?” my mom said like a question.
“You heard it correctly.”
“Why in the world would you leave Richard, Veronica?”
“I never should have married him,” I said, wondering if Jesse could still hear me.
I wanted him to hear me.
“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
Was it, though? I thought for a moment before answering my mom.
I’d wanted the perfect wedding, and every last detail had been perfect. But as soon as the wedding was over, thoughts started creeping into my mind that it had all been a huge mistake. But when you’ve invited over two hundred people to a wedding and you’re caught up in the details, it’s hard to see what’s right in front of you.
I’d had the perfect wedding, but I never had the perfect marriage. And those were two very different things.
“Mom, I know your beliefs on marriage. I know I’m going to be the black sheep of the family forever because I’m getting a divorce. But I can’t go back to him. He’s changed. Maybe I’ve changed, too. I just wanted to call you to let you know.”
“Divorce” had always been like a curse word in my house growing up, and I’d just said it. Not only had I said it, but I said that I was going to do it. This was sure to bring a scandal to the family.
Hell, at least they’d have something interesting to gossip about at this year’s reunion.
“Honey, you’ve got to try.”
“I did.”
“Try again.”
“I’ve tried for the last year. I’m done trying. I give up. We failed, and it’s over.”
My mom was quiet, and I felt like shit for confessing and then shutting down her reply, but I just didn’t want to hear it. I felt like Super Woman when I’d finally left him, and this conversation was just bringing me down. It was all the reasons I’d put off leaving him in the first place wrapped into one guilt-trip conversation.
“Mom, I have to go. I’ll call again soon.”
I knew she was disappointed, and I knew she wanted to talk some more, but I was done. I just wanted to get back out to Jesse, the man who freed me just by convincing me that living stagnantly was no longer working, the man who made me feel like I could do anything and be anything I wanted to be.
“Can I just say one thing?” she asked.
Here it comes, I thought to myself. I grunted in reply.
“Your father and I have been married for nearly thirty-five years, and we’ve been through a lot together. We’ve had rough patches, but we always came out on top because we each put the other first. I don’t know what it’s like day to day for your marriage, but if you put Richard first, like the way a marriage is supposed to work, then maybe you two can work things out.”
I thought about that for a moment. Had I put Richard first? Or was I putting myself first?
I knew I’d tried everything I could to make it work. And I knew the answer to my question: I’d put Richard first for our entire marriage and I was finally, finally putting myself first. I deserved to be first for once, and now was the time when it mattered.
“Thanks for the advice,” I said thickly, not wanting to reveal my thoughts to my mother because I really just didn’t think she’d get it.
“You’re welcome, dear. Just think about trying it one more time. For me.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said, knowing it was a lie even as I said it. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too.”
With that, I ended the call. I stared at my phone, lost in thought for a moment about our conversation, when Jesse’s head appeared in my doorway again. He knocked lightly on the frame.
“Come on in,” I said with a sigh.
He came in and sat down on the edge of my bed. It didn’t escape my notice that I was sharing a bed with Jesse Drake.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “My mom,” I said, nodding toward my phone in my hand.
“You didn’t even tell her?”
“You’re the only person I told in the entire world.”
“How did you live for so long without talking to anybody?”
I shrugged. “I just did.”
“You know you’ve got me now, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “I was always there, but maybe you just didn’t realize it,” he said softly, staring down at his jeans. I wondered what he was thinking and what was going on behind those dark and mysterious brown eyes.
“Thank you, Jesse,” I whispered.
His eyes snapped up to meet mine, and I saw a warmth and affection there that I’d never noticed before. Maybe he was right; he’d always been there, but I just hadn’t realized it.
A sudden hatred grasped at me for my soon-to-be-ex-husband as I realized how I’d wasted the past five years on him when there were men like Jesse out there. Good, solid, gorgeous men, just waiting for the right woman to come along.
I longed to be the right woman for Jesse, but I knew I wasn’t. I wasn’t going to get down on myself, because deep down I knew I was a catch; but I still wasn’t playing in the same league as him. Besides, I needed to give myself some time. I was officially ending my marriage. Surely I needed some time to just be on my own; it was like an unwritten rule. I couldn’t just jump into the next thing even if I knew that my relationship with Richard had been over for a long time. I needed to wait the proper and respectable amount of time before moving on with someone new, and it couldn’t be Jesse. Not after he’d offered me his unconditional friendship and a place to stay. Besides, Jesse wasn’t the relationship type. He’d already admitted to me that he liked the ladies, and I couldn’t set myself up for something like that. I couldn’t just be another girl that he slept with, and I wasn’t willing to give up the friendship we’d formed for one night of what would surely be the most amazing sex of my life.
And then there was Allison to consider. Who was she, and why was her name tattooed on his gorgeous body?
I shook the thought of the body cut from stone from my head.
I’d nurse my crush, I’d enjoy the banter while I crashed at his place, and then I’d force myself to get over it.
My phone chirped with a text and it broke the spell that held his eyes to mine. I glanced down at my phone and saw that I had a new message from Quinn. I didn’t open it, though. Instead, I looked back at Jesse, who was running a hand through his hair as he stood.
He sighed deeply with an undertone of frustration. “I’ll leave you to your text. Do you have plans for tonight?”
I shook my head, feeling really lame.
“I was thinking we could cook dinner and just stay in,” he said.
“Together?”
“Yeah. You gotta start pulling your weight around here,” he said.
I smiled. “Once you taste my cooking, you’re never going to want me to move out,” I teased.
He grinned and then headed out of my room. Just before he disappeared down the hallwa
y, I thought I heard him mutter, “Why do I get the feeling it won’t be just your cooking?”
I was certain he didn’t intend for me to hear him, but I had, and those words sent a shiver of desire through me.
You make it home okay last night? Quinn’s text asked.
Interesting question. I wasn’t sure how to answer her considering I wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by “home.” Her definition and mine were likely not the same.
I wasn’t ready to get into that conversation with Quinn yet, so I lied in my reply. Yep.
Her reply came quick: Is the inside of Decadent Drake’s truck as sexy as the outside?
God, if she only knew what I knew about the object of her lust. If she knew about that tattoo, she wouldn’t stop until she got to see it for herself. I decided to keep that little nugget to myself, at least for now. But I knew I couldn’t keep my separation secret from my best friend for much longer, and then she’d want to know where I was staying, and she’d want me to stay with her. But I didn’t want to stay with her. I wanted to stay with Jesse. I wanted to get to know Jesse better, and I wanted to sleep next to him in his gorgeous bed after he spent the entire night making love to me.
Wait. I didn’t mean that last part.
Oh, who am I kidding? Yes I did.
Shit.
I was in big trouble.
I replied to Quinn with a smiley face and turned my phone off before joining Jesse in the kitchen. He was pulling ingredients out of the fridge and placing them on the counter. “What are we making?” I asked.
“Chicken marsala and mushroom risotto,” he said.
“Sounds delicious,” I said, my mouth already watering as I watched him gather everything we needed. He pulled out a cutting board, a meat mallet, the chicken, and some plastic wrap as he set up the station for pounding out the chicken, and then he motioned me over.
“Take your frustration with that two named asshole out on poor Charlie Chicken,” he said, handing me the mallet.
“Charlie Chicken?” I asked.
He winked at me. “I always name my food. Charlie Chicken, Tom Turkey, Bobby Beef, Fred Fish, Peter Porker.”
“Peter Porker? Like Spiderman? Peter Parker?”
He grinned. “You got it.”
“Weirdo,” I giggled as I took the mallet from him, our fingers accidentally brushing in the process as our eyes met again. I saw a heat pass through his eyes just as I felt a spark pass between us, and then Jesse dropped his hand quickly. He busied himself by pouring flour into a shallow dish as I went to work on Charlie.
I felt his presence behind me as he stood over my shoulder and watched me pound out the chicken.
“Not so hard,” he instructed.
I let up my pounding, hitting the side of the chicken.
“No,” he said, and I felt him move in closer behind me. “Like this.” He placed his hand over mine, lifted our joined hands, and hit firmly in the center of the chicken breast.
But, honestly, I had no idea that we’d just hit raw chicken with a kitchen mallet. All I could feel was the heat from his body standing behind my own and the sizzle from his hand over mine. I felt my body automatically lean back into him for more contact as he brought our joined hands up and back down again.
“Got it?” he breathed into my ear, his breath on my skin sending a tremor down my spine as I realized that his front completely ran the length of my back. I shivered and goose bumps broke out across my skin at his proximity. I felt the sinewy hardness of his muscles, and I was certain that I felt another hardness pressing lower against the base of my spine.
Was he as turned on as I was? Was it possible that the little flirtations that I kept brushing off were sincere?
Was it possible that someone like Jesse Drake was interested in me?
I doubted it, but it didn’t stop me from dreaming.
“Uh,” I stuttered. “Yeah. Got it,” I said, and he broke that sexy moment between us as he backed away, running both of his hands through his hair.
“Good. I’ll get the risotto going,” he said, and he moved to the other side of the kitchen to start the burner while I continued pounding the chicken in time to the loud pounding of my heart in my chest.
The rest of our meal preparations went off without nearly as much excitement as hitting the chicken. At one point, I glanced over at Jesse while I stirred the risotto, waiting for the rice to soak up the chicken stock before I poured in more liquid. His palms were pressed flat against the counter in front of the sink, his arms straight as he leaned forward with his head bowed. His shoulders looked tense, and I saw him take a deep breath. I wondered what he was thinking, but I couldn’t interrupt his introspective moment.
And, for about the millionth time, I wondered who the hell Allison was and whether or not the way he stood there like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders had anything to do with her.
Jesse poured us each a glass of Sauvignon Blanc as I plated the food, and we met at the table. The food smelled so good that I gave us both heaping platefuls. He had set the wineglasses down first so that we were seated across from each other. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him next to me, heating me up with his proximity, or if I wanted him across from me where I could stare at him as we ate. Both options seemed equally dangerous.
“Is that going to be enough?” he teased as I sat down and grabbed my fork.
“Shut up,” I warned. “I’m hungry.”
I dug in, and I couldn’t help the little moan that passed through my lips when I tasted the chicken. He’d taken the lead on chicken while I worked the risotto, although the whole meal really was a result of our teamwork.
“Good?” he asked, shifting in his chair.
I nodded. “Fantastic,” I said, licking my lips as I savored the delicious sauce he had made.
“Nice to see a woman who actually eats,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that supposed mean?”
“Usually when I eat with women, they barely touch their food, or they order some salad and then they pick at it and it pisses me off because I have to pay for the damn meal that they don’t even bother eating. So it’s just nice to see a woman who actually enjoys food.”
I thought about the types of women he must have typically dated. Modelesque, I was sure. Probably tall and blonde and blue eyed with fake chests and faker personalities. Definitely not any of my attributes.
I wanted to be the type he dated, though.
I shrugged. “Yep. I like my food.”
“Like those potato skins yesterday?” he asked.
I grinned. “God, those were delicious,” I moaned, closing my eyes in delight as I remembered that delectable combination of potato, cheese, bacon, grease, and sour cream. I noticed him shift in his chair again, and then he grabbed his wineglass and took a huge gulp.
“So,” he said, clearly changing the subject, “how did things go this afternoon?”
“Not great,” I said. I took a bite of the risotto and mentally patted myself on the back for a job well done since it tasted fantastic, too.
“I heard what you said to your mother,” he said.
“Which part?”
“Do you really think your family won’t support you? That you’ll be the black sheep?”
I shrugged again. “I don’t know. My family is very conservative, much more than I am. I always believed that marriage is only supposed to happen once in a person’s life, but that was before the person I married became someone I don’t recognize anymore.”
“What did he say today?”
I sighed. “I told him I wanted a divorce. He said he’s not going to sign the papers.”
Jesse’s eyes darkened. “Fucking asshole.”
“Tell me about it. He said I’m stuck until he decides he’s ready to sign.”
“Then let’s make him ready.”
Let’s? As an English teacher, I knew that “Let’s” was a contraction for “let us.” Us. Us. He just called us an “us.”
Obviously, I took a moment for a mini freak out in my mind at the thought of being part of an “us” with Jesse.
I gulped down some wine while I composed myself. “How?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’ll think of something,” he said as if it were a simple problem with a simpler solution. I loved how he made me feel like he would just automatically take care of things. With Richard, I had never felt that. I’d always felt like I was in it by myself, and while I’d always enjoyed the independence that gave me, I was starting to realize how much I missed out on by never feeling like I was part of a team.
We ate in comfortable silence for a few moments.
“So, who’s the flavor of the week?” I asked, trying to dispel some of the sexual tension I was feeling between us. I hoped that if I could just get the attention on whoever he was currently banging, I’d stop picturing myself as the woman he was currently banging.
His eyes met mine and he raised one eyebrow. My breath left my body as he stared me down. I couldn’t quite put my finger on the look in his eye, but I almost sensed some irritation. At me?
“There’s no current flavor,” he said, his voice deep and quiet, his eyes never leaving mine.
So much for breaking some of that sexual tension.
He cleared his throat. “And, again, I’d like to ask what exactly you think I do in my spare time.”
“You’ve admitted to me yourself that you have a new flavor every week,” I said lightly.
“When?” he challenged, narrowing his eyes at me as he took a bite of chicken.
“Random times. Like over a text, or in a passing conversation.”
I watched him chew that chicken, and even that somehow turned me on. I gazed at his strong jaw as he chewed, that jaw covered in just enough scruff to be really, really sexy. An image of that stubble rubbing across the inside of my thigh came to mind, and just staring at him across the table from me was enough to send a shot of lust right through my spine and straight to my lady parts.