by Natalie Ann
Then when Phil overheard Sean talking to her—even more embarrassing. Only Sean just laughed it off. He didn’t seem bothered by it. Most guys would have been, but he just brushed it off like it was nothing. Of course she knew they were pretty laid back in the office. Maybe they were always talking like that.
She opened her drawers and tried to figure out what to pack. She didn’t really have any sexy nightwear. Not that she’d bring it if she did, because that might just give him the idea that she was this wild girl in bed.
But then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. And why was she even stressing about this or overthinking it? Why couldn’t she just be a normal person and pack her clothes and let the night play out how it would?
Because she overthought everything. She was always looking for the worst in everything and fearful of being hurt in the end. She had to get over this. If she lived her life in fear, she’d never experience the good things—like last weekend.
She’d broken through her fear of rejection last Saturday and showed a more aggressive side. Let herself live a little, burst out of her cocoon and enjoyed herself more than she’d ever done before. And in doing so, it was right up there as one of the best experiences ever.
Which was pretty pathetic if she was honest with herself. It wasn’t like they did anything scandalous. So what? She talked a little dirty, if it could even be considered that, and most women wouldn’t consider it that. So, she was a little more suggestive than normal. Again, not the end of the world.
Only it made her feel a bit powerful, and that feeling alone made it all worthwhile to step back and face a fear. Or at least shove the fear in the corner and proceed without caution for once.
Still, here she was stressing again. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a change of clothing, then an extra T-shirt to sleep in, and was done. Walking into her bathroom, she packed the rest of what she needed and zipped up her bag before she changed her mind again.
Another deep breath, she grabbed her jacket, walked out the door and drove to Sean’s.
So Right
Carly had worried, agonized and stressed for nothing.
Pulling in front of Sean’s townhouse late that morning, she took note of the modern building and the end unit he had. That was better at least.
She swore she’d never live in any type of home with shared walls again. Too many noises and too many nosy neighbors calling the police and wanting to know what was going on. Unfortunately, growing up, her apartment wasn’t the only one with the loud noises and that somehow made it worse as a child. It felt like that was all she was exposed to at certain points in her life.
If that wasn’t bad enough, then being evicted because the landlords received too many complaints about her father or what went on in her apartment piled another embarrassment on. Not to mention angering her father and causing him to blame her mother. A nasty vicious cycle.
The one good thing that came out of moving was that her father was usually on his best behavior at their new place, fearful of being evicted so soon again.
But it never lasted long. Eventually something would set him off. It didn’t even have to be anything major—his dinner could have been overcooked one night. It never mattered to him, especially when he started to drink.
Wiping those dark and depressing thoughts from her mind, she grabbed her bag and made her way to Sean’s front door. He opened it before she had a chance to ring the bell. “Hey there.” He reached forward and took her bag out of her hand, then leaned down for a kiss on her lips. That small quick greeting felt so natural and so right.
“Hi. I’m not too early, am I?” She even stressed over when to leave her house but in the end told herself to stop and just go, that it would be fine.
“Nope. Let me show you around.” He’d set her bag by the front door in a small foyer and walked her into an open living room-dining room combination, right through to the kitchen. One big room with no walls between and a straight sightline from the front door to the back glass sliders. She even saw a small deck out back.
“It’s a nice space.”
“It works for me. Plenty of room.”
She noticed he didn’t have a lot of furniture, not like she did, but it must work for him. One average-sized couch and a chair with an ottoman. His dining room table looked small in the open space—it was more of a kitchen table, really. She guessed he never used it since she noted three stools against a large counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room.
“You have a lot of counter space.”
“I like to cook. Counter space was more important to me than anything. That and a gas stove.”
She would have liked a gas stove herself, but it was too much work to put one in her house. She’d learned to deal with electric. “I wanted the gas stove too, but I loved my house enough to overlook that.”
“Alec could put the line in and change it out for you.”
“I’m sure it’s easier than I think, but it’s good. I’ve been there for a few years now and am used to it.” She knew her house wasn’t anything fancy, nothing like what the Harpers’ built, let alone lived in, but it suited her. A place to herself. A quiet place, one that she could escape to if need be.
Growing up, all she’d lived in were apartments with tiny rooms. Places where she could never put her stamp on anything. Even her mother always wanted to paint or decorate, but they’d never lived anywhere long enough for her to do it. Or her father wouldn’t let her mother.
Then when they’d moved to Saratoga her mother was in a different mindset at that point. She no longer dreamed of having a nice home or wanting to do pretty things to where she lived. She just wanted to escape. Sometimes escaping into worlds where no one could reach her. The few homey things she did were for income.
The house they lived in back then was nice enough. The owners were letting them rent with the option to buy and said they could make any changes they wanted. Theresa Smith, Carly’s grandmother, had more than once encouraged Trisha and Carly to make changes. To make the home more theirs, but Trisha wanted no part of it. Carly did manage to paint and decorate her room multiple times over the years, and that seemed to be enough for her.
Carly took a deep breath, refusing to let old memories bring her down. It was a long time ago. Her life and her mother’s hadn’t been like that for almost two decades. It was in the past and it needed to stay there. Locked up tight, the key thrown into the ocean—tied around a brick, stuffed in a bag, then the bag stuffed into a lockbox.
“So this is pretty much the downstairs. There’s a half bath behind that door.” He ushered her back through to the foyer again, picked up her bag and started to climb the stairs. “Three bedrooms and two baths upstairs.”
She looked at the wall as she climbed the stairs, astonished to see framed photos strategically arranged all the way up. It was something she would do if she had a big family. Actually, it was something she always dreamed of doing someday. It definitely wasn’t something she expected to see in a bachelor’s house. “Your family?”
“Yes.” Pointing to the first family photo, he explained, “My oldest sister, Anna, her husband and their three kids.” He went down the line and pointed out his other two sisters, their husbands and three kids for each of them.
“Is three the lucky number in your family?”
“I don’t think so. Richie, Anna’s husband, wanted a boy, so after the first two girls he convinced her to try one more time. I really think if Anna didn’t have a boy that time, she’d have four kids.” He continued on pointing out his sister Kristy’s family, with three girls, and Melissa’s family with two boys and a girl.
“So the boys are outnumbered, I see.”
“They are. Just like when I was growing up. Must be the Callahan genes; they lean more toward girls.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a girl.”
His eyes lifted and she saw the mischief in them, even though he wasn’t smiling or making a sound. “You’re ri
ght, but I like being a guy just the same.”
“A guy with a sensitive side,” she said, hoping he took it as gentle teasing.
Wiggling his eyebrows at her and squeezing her waist, he said, “You liked it last week.”
She blushed. There was no stopping it. She should have known he would turn the tables on her, but she didn’t mind. Trying to change the subject, she pointed to an older couple in a photo on the wall. “Is this your parents?”
“It is.”
“You look just like your father and nothing at all like your mother. I notice that your sisters all resemble your mother more.”
“True. I guess when the Callahan male genes make it through, they’re pretty strong.”
He continued up the stairs and opened the door at the top. She peeked in to see a neat room with a desk against one wall and a small bed, with another pull-out bed underneath, plus a dresser. “Two beds?” she asked.
“Lots of nieces and nephews, and they like to visit. How do you think those pictures ended up on my wall? One of my sisters, I can’t even tell you who at this point, decided that I needed more reminders of my family. Every time someone visits those pictures change, but I can tell you I never touch them.”
“But you love seeing them on the wall, don’t you?”
“You know what? I really do.” He opened up a door on the opposite side. “Here is the guest room, or where the adults stay when they visit.”
“Is that a playpen in the corner folded up?”
“Big family,” he reminded her. “Everyone needs a place to sleep. Though only one still sleeps in there now. Pretty soon I’ll have to get another bed or something. Normally someone shares.”
She thought that was sweet, that he was worried about where his family slept when they visited.
“And this is my room,” he said right after he pointed out the hall bath.
It was a big but simple space. A king-size wrought iron bed against the wall made her a bit nervous, but she didn’t let on. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be trapped against the wall and would have to crawl over him to get up. She’d worry about it later. “It’s nice. It suits you.” And it did. Even though it was simple, it was still very masculine, but not over the top. Polished almost, but not in a fancy type of way.
She really couldn’t find the word to describe it other than it just seemed so much like him. There were little knickknacks on the dresser, handmade items that she’d bet his nieces and nephews made and gave him. What looked to be a handmade quilt was at the bottom of his bed in shades of blue and green to go with the rest of the color scheme in his room.
A TV was mounted on the wall, blinds and dark blue curtains on the windows. Simple, neat and modern with little touches of family.
“Do you want to put your clothes away?” he asked, setting her bag on the bed.
“If you have room, that would be great.”
He opened up an empty drawer for her, then walked over and opened up the door to his bathroom. “You can put whatever you need to in here. Anywhere is fine.”
So she did, quickly placing her clothes in his drawer, fighting back a feeling of belonging. It was crazy—it was just one night, but shutting the drawer in that room felt cozy to her for some reason. Like she’d been there before and couldn’t wait to come back.
***
Sean lay on his back, up against the wall, wide awake. The same as he’d been for the last three hours.
He wasn’t used to sleeping on this side of the bed and it felt uncomfortable to him. But he didn’t care about that, because even though he was wide awake and uncomfortable, he still had a smile on his face.
After he’d showed Carly around his house, they left and had a quick lunch, then went to finish their ceramic projects. When it was all said and done, his bowl was lopsided and most likely wouldn’t hold a thing without it rolling around. Staying simple, he painted it green.
Now Carly’s dish, that was another story. By the time she was done painting and putting a glaze on it, it looked like something that should be displayed in a store window or at a museum. They’d handed their pieces back over to the owner for them to be baked again, and could pick them up on Monday.
Afterward, since they had no real set plans, Carly suggested they go apple picking. He couldn’t remember the last time he went apple picking. It had to have been when he was a kid.
Growing up, his parents tried to do family activities like that, but running a pub made it hard. His father was always working and very rarely took time off. When he did take time off, it was to attend school functions and sporting events. Patrick always said he didn’t want to miss those things, so Sean figured family trips on the weekends were the casualty for that to happen.
The apple orchard was packed when they pulled in, but Carly didn’t seem to mind. They grabbed a big bushel to fill up and set off walking through the rows of trees.
Kids were running everywhere, laughing and giggling, pulling on their parents’ hands to follow them. Carly’s smile didn’t leave her face the entire time.
It didn’t matter that those kids were strangers to her; she stopped and talked or made comments to several. And just as many recognized her and came running over to say, “Hi, Ms. Springfield.”
It was easy to see why the kids loved her, and equally easy to see how much she loved her students.
There were no ladders to be found and most of the apples on the lower branches had been picked cleaned, not leaving many for Carly to reach. He’d felt bad since it was her idea, so he squatted down and said, “Climb on my shoulders, then you can get as many as you want.”
She hesitated, then looked around at the people, but finally gave in. For thirty minutes he walked around with her on his shoulders while he held the bushel for her to drop the apples in.
The first ten minutes were fine, but after that, he grew tired. Not that he would ever say a word about it. Even though she was a tiny thing, a hundred pounds on your shoulders for thirty minutes straight would bother anyone.
Still, it wasn’t even the apple picking that had him smiling. It was after, when they came back to his place.
They’d decided ahead of time to grab takeout, eat in and watch a movie. His choice this time, so he went with a superhero movie. Not his first choice, but it was better than a chick flick, and he thought she might appreciate it and would have something to talk to her students about after.
He was reaching up and stretching his arms over his head when the movie was done. At this point he was getting stiff, though he didn’t want to let on. He must not have been doing a good enough job of it, because she noticed. “Does your back hurt?”
Ah, no. No man is going to admit that. “I’m good. Just sitting in one spot for a few hours.”
“You sit on your butt all day long at work.”
Shocked, his eyes went wide over that comment. She burst out laughing at his reaction, and he joined in. “You sound like Alec and Brynn now.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I meant because I never sit still for long. If anything I would be the one getting sore from sitting for a few hours.” She grinned, and said, “Turn around and I’ll rub your back.”
Her small hands kneading his shoulders made it all worth the pain of carrying her. “That feels good.”
“Take your shirt off; it’s in my way.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Lifting it over his head, he tossed it to the end of the couch. Her hands went back to his shoulders, soft and firm at the same time, even warm. It was a nice mixture of feelings and it was doing one hell of a job on him.
He was trying not to squirm on the couch, but his jeans were starting to get a little tight. Even more so when he felt her lips on his shoulder, the light feather-type kiss. Then firmer yet as she kissed her way down his arm, back up again, over his shoulders and to the other side. She’d been worried about how they were the week before, but she was taking the initiative right now, totally contradicting her earlier concerns.
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nbsp; He turned around and pulled her close, covering her mouth with his, tasting the sweet and salty combination of their snacks from earlier. Her hands started to move up his chest, over across his shoulders and back to his chest again. “I like how you feel,” she murmured.
“Touch as much of me as you want.”
“I’m not usually like this, but you make me want to be.”
He was glad of it. “You can do whatever you want. Tell me what you want from me.”
“I don’t know.” She kissed him again, touched him some more, then said, “You seemed to know last time.”
He watched her dip her head down, the shyness, the embarrassment almost too much for her, hiding her expression away. “Then leave it to me.”
He lifted her shirt up and over her head, followed next by her bra, tossing that beside his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex on his living room couch, not that he cared. All he cared about was her, pleasing her, making her happy, seeing her smile, wiping that shyness from her eyes.
More kissing, more touching, on both their parts, and soon the rest of their clothing was on the floor. He’d been aware enough to grab a condom out of his pocket and put it on, but barely. For someone that was so shy about things, she wasn’t showing much hesitation now.
He didn’t want to smother her on the couch and there wasn’t enough room even if he wanted to lie out. Instead, he pulled her up to her knees, spread her legs around his hips and lowered her down on top of him. Perfect position, as it put her breasts front and center for him to taste.
Pulling her forward, his tongue came out to trace around each nipple, to pull it into his mouth, applying just enough pressure, gently closing his teeth on one and then tasting some more. Her wiggling on his lap was almost his undoing. At the moment she wasn’t doing much more than sitting there and enjoying his actions. Which was a good thing, because he was holding on by a thread.
Then suddenly she rose up on her knees and slid back down, and a growl escaped his lips. “Keep doing that,” he encouraged her.