by L. B. Dunbar
As I stand at the door, eyes roving over the sand, I see Lily stretching and twisting in rhythmic movements. Arms extended, she turns her head slowly to one side; her moves are graceful and purposeful. Is she doing yoga? The methodical movements and thoughtfully timed pauses hint she might be.
I return to my room to retrieve a T-shirt and head to the first floor. Coffee awaits me in the machine, and I help myself to a cup, sipping slowly as I walk across the deck. Dang, I note, even her coffee is delicious. I set my mug on the railing after another sip and cross the sand to her setup.
“You weren’t in bed this morning.” The words burst forth sharply because a strange hum under my skin lingers from her absence. I don’t like waking to find her gone. I cross my arms, emphasizing I’m upset.
“Good morning,” she says, not breaking her pose. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I didn’t want to wake alone.” Her head snaps in my direction, and her brows pinch.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Suddenly, I’m concerned because I suffer from lack of sleep at times. My mind races with all the things I need to do, all the things I didn’t complete, and all the things I should have done.
“Just woke early,” she amends, shrugging as she shifts to a new pose. “It happens. Insomnia, I guess.”
With all the sexual energy we expelled yesterday, I was exhausted by the time we went to bed. Lily curled into me, her head on my chest for a while before she slipped off me. I’ve slept alone for a long time, and I don’t know that I can sleep with someone on me, but once she moved away from me, I missed her touch. I followed the curl of her body and wrapped an arm over her back as she moved to her stomach. She must have sensed my need for closeness because her foot hooked over my ankle as if she sought me in her sleep. At least, that’s what I told myself when it happened.
“Whatcha thinking about?” I assume her insomnia comes from racing thoughts, like mine. The past popped up last night. Was she thinking of unspoken things?
“I just find the older I get, the less I sleep. If I have six hours, I count it as a good night. Maybe it’s the bakery. I’m used to waking early.” She elongates her arm, curves her hand upward, and straightens her body. Her blue eyes hit me, and I want to crumple to the sand from the intensity. I reach out for a loose hair and curl it over her ear.
“I’m sorry I snapped,” I mutter, feeling repentant for more than just my tone this morning. Not willing to get any heavier with my emotions, I amend myself. “Good morning.” Then I kiss her.
A silent prayer escapes me.
Lord, let me wake every day to this woman, and I promise to kiss her like this in greeting.
Lily pulls back first, slowly, lingering. Her soft grin grows to a sheepish smile. She’s so fucking pretty.
“Let’s do something today,” I blurt. “Go out for a bit.”
“Really?” Her smile develops to a full beam, and I’ll do anything as long as she keeps looking at me like that.
“Sure. What did you want to do besides hang at the beach? Was there somewhere you wanted to go in the area? Someplace you wanted to see?” We aren’t far from San Diego. “There’s plenty of shopping, more surfing, hiking, sightseeing, cave kayaking—”
“We could go to the zoo?”
Say what? I’m going to fall into the bad parent category and admit I’ve never been to the zoo. Never took Chopper. Never signed up to chaperone when the school went on an educational visit. For some reason, the concept of caged animals reminds me of myself. Trapped. Confined. Enclosed in a space I didn’t want to be. The garage is my exhibit.
“Orrrrr not.” Lily’s excitement falters as her brows pinch. Her hands have found their way to my chest, smoothing over my T-shirt in her enthusiasm, but her palms stop stroking. My fingers come to her wrists, encircling them and lifting one palm to my lips.
“The zoo sounds great.”
“We can do something else,” she begins. “Something you want to do instead—”
My thumb on her lip stops her from speaking. “Going to the zoo with you is what I want to do.” And I find I mean it. I want to spend the day with her in any capacity. So, the zoo it is.
19
Caged animal
[Lily]
Brut seems hesitant about the zoo, but I decide to let the issue drop when he swears he wants to go. Twenty minutes after leaving the house, we park at one of the most famous zoos in the world. I haven’t been to one since I was a kid. Considering I thought I’d be a mother one day, I believed visits to the zoo would be a staple in my life. The thought hits me hard for a moment—because I’m not a mother.
“Did you take Chopper to the zoo often when he was a child?” I ask Brut as we cross the parking lot for the ticket booth.
“I didn’t actually.” He’s quiet for a second. “I did what I could, but I didn’t have much extra cash when Chopper was little. Pop had all the funds tied up in the shop or gambled away.”
We step up to the counter, and Brut pulls out his wallet.
“I got it,” I offer, but he levels me with a glare when he says, “This is my date. I pay.”
I’m a modern woman who can cover her own expenses, but I appreciate his gentlemanly command that he pay for our day. We receive the admission tickets and cross into the official park.
“Your date, huh?” I huff teasingly, looping my arm through his.
“Our first ever.” He kisses me briefly before flipping open the extensive map, and I stare at him. He’s right. This is our first date. When I was younger, I’d often sneak into the garage after hours. We didn’t go anywhere. We stayed in the office. We made out on the couch. Sometimes, we’d go for long drives in a car he finished, but we never went on dates. Once we went to a concert, but it was a disaster. We also never had sex.
“What?” Brut asks, interrupting my thoughts. Asking him why we never went out is on the tip of my tongue, but I bite back the question. No thoughts of the past.
“Nothing,” I lie, tightening my arm on his.
Observing the map, we realize there is no way to see everything in one day, so we narrow it down by selecting two general exhibits apiece. I choose the pandas first, and Brut wants the big cats next. With a plan mapped out, we begin our date.
Standing in front of the panda bears, Brut stares as one gnaws on bamboo.
“You know, I’ve never lived anywhere other than my dad’s house.” The out-of-the-blue comment surprises me, and I’m sad for Brut. Considering he still lives in the same house he grew up in, he hasn’t had the adventure of packing boxes, physically moving, or living anywhere different.
“Why didn’t you move out?”
Brut leans with his forearms on the railing and his hands clasp together as he watches the bears.
“I guess it just seemed easier to stay.” His tone is somber as his brows pinch. He’s quiet for another second. “When Chopper arrived, I needed help because I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know how to be a parent. Not that Pop was a great role model, but he didn’t kick me out, so I stayed. When he died, I inherited the house.” He nods to the black and white novelty before us. “I’m like him. Trapped in captivity. In the same place where I started.”
“You don’t like working in the garage, do you?”
“It’s not that.” He turns his head to me. “I’m just stuck. I think I’ve grown complacent to the garage. I mean, I own it. It’s mine in name although I try to be fair to Hank.” Brut’s brother was once a famous musician. He doesn’t need the money the garage provides, but Brut has always been a good older brother. Life wasn’t always easy with Hank, the superstar, as his younger sibling.
“What about teaching? Why not go back to school?”
“You sound like Hank.” He chuckles. “But I’m too old.”
“I never believe that,” I say quickly. “You’re forty-five, Brut. If you’ve only lived half your life, what will you do with the other half, especially if you aren’t happy?”
; His eyes scan my face before he turns back to observe the pandas.
“I’m not unhappy; I’m just…” The words fall away as he twists his lips.
“Incomplete?” I ask softly. I might know how he feels if he agrees with me.
“Maybe.” He scoffs lightly.
“What about moving? If you feel you’ve been in one place too long, then move.”
“It’s not that simple,” he says.
“You’re making it too easy to stay.” I laugh with a wink, but there’s a serious edge to my tone. I’ve moved more times than I can remember. Left home as soon as I could at twenty to move in with Brad. Slept on a friend’s couch for a summer after him. Lived in a commune-style home for a while. Got my first studio apartment. Then opened the bakery.
“It’s not that. The house is all mine, but it’s dated. I’d need to renovate to sell, and I just haven’t had the motivation to do it. With Hank moving out, it’s been strange. Chopper will leave soon, too, I suppose. It’s weird to think I’ll finally have the place to myself.” The list Brut sounds as though he’s trying to find an excuse to go, but his tone suggests he isn’t convinced to leave.
“Update it then, like you said. It sounds like the perfect time if everyone else is moving. Make it what you want. I could help.” I bite my lip the second I offer. One week. My suggestion implies more time, and I don’t want to ask. I don’t even want to hint. Thinking ahead would only bring heartache. Who am I kidding, though? I know when this week ends, I won’t be able to walk away as easily as I think.
“Really?” Brut interjects. “Would you help me?” His eyes scan my body. “Know how to use a hammer?”
“Nah, but I could make some decent cupcakes to inspire you,” I tease, hoping to shift the conversation. I don’t want the day to turn serious, so I reach for his hand. This draws his attention to our linked fingers, and then his eyes jump to mine.
“You could be very inspirational for me, Lily pad.” I have no idea what he means, but he smiles before lifting our joined fingers and kissing my knuckles. Then he tugs me forward, and we continue our day at the zoo.
+ + +
On our way back to the beach house, Brut stops at a seafood shack, swearing they have the freshest fish. It’s a little dive diner, but I love the atmosphere of red checkered oilcloth table coverings and deep wooden benches for seats. I order a margarita while Brut orders a beer.
“Tell me your favorite thing about the day.”
“You,” Brut says without hesitation. He doesn’t even look up from the menu to respond.
“I’m serious,” I tease. “What was your favorite part?”
“Spending time with you.”
“Brut,” I admonish with a giggle. “Not me. At the zoo. Your favorite thing you saw.”
“The expression on your face. You’re like a kid each time you saw something new. Your face would light up, and your smile would beam. It was fascinating.”
My shoulders fall. Not in defeat but in awe. “Brut, that’s…that’s incredibly sweet.”
“I had fun.” His shrug dismisses what he said.
“See, you do know how to have fun,” I repeat with a clap of my hands. When he asked me yesterday about fun, I didn’t know what to say. I’ve lived a good life despite my past. Not every moment has been perfect, but I can say my life has been decent. Brut doesn’t seem so confident even though he has Chopper and his shop. Not to mention, his brother is his best friend. I don’t have anything like that, but I do have Ester.
“I think you bring it out of me.” Brut taps the edge of my glass with the neck of his beer before taking a swig. I can’t help the heat on my cheeks. He really is sweet.
When dinner ends, we drive back to the house, and Brut rounds the car to open my door. Taking my hand, he walks me to the side entrance and then pulls me to a stop.
“Would you kiss on a first date?” he asks sheepishly, lifting our joined fingers to his cheek.
“It depends.” I tilt my head, wondering where he’s going with his question.
“I don’t really date, Lil. I don’t know how these things work.” His shoulders lift and fall. I can’t imagine Brut not dating. There’s no way he’s been a monk all these years, but then again, you don’t need to go on dates in order to have sex. “I want to end our first date the right way.”
Oh Brut. “As it’s our first date, and because it’s you, I would definitely kiss on the first date.”
“Why ‘because it’s me’?” I could reply with—because we’ve already had sex, so we are past the first kiss—but I hear what Brut wants.
“Because I’ve been waiting a long time for a first date with you, Brut Paige. I don’t think I’d want to wait any longer for a first kiss.”
“I’m sorry, Lily,” he says, his voice softening, but I don’t mean to turn our moment sour. He strokes my hair around my ear.
“Kiss me, Brut,” I quietly command. To my surprise, the kiss is light and tender. I can’t say it turns demanding because it doesn’t. Brut keeps it chaste and delicate, just as a first kiss might be. One hand cups my cheek, and he takes it no further. Pulling back after a few minutes, he presses his forehead to mine.
“Thank you for that,” he says, rubbing his nose against mine.
“I’ll be your first kiss anytime, honey.”
20
Bump. Set. Spike.
[Brut]
I’m still on the high of our day, the kiss at the door, and her calling me honey, so while I want to do it right, I don’t want to spend another night without her.
“Okay, enough first date stuff,” I say, letting myself in her room and crawling into her bed. I spoon behind her, and her body jiggles with her chuckle. After I link my arm over her waist, her fingers come to my forearm and gently stroke. She’s right; it is a soothing sensation.
“Would you have sex on the first date?” I ask, nuzzling my nose into her nape while holding my breath for her answer.
“I don’t think so.”
“Not even with me?” I nibble at her neck, sucking her warm skin.
“Especially not you,” her voice jests.
“Why not?” I kiss the hollow spot at the base of her skull as my hand skims over her hip.
“I don’t want you to think I’m easy.” Her tone sounds serious, but then she giggles.
“Nothing with you was ever easy, Lily. You were so hard to resist.”
“You did a good job back then.” We’ve subtly hinted at the past here and there with casual references. As much as I don’t want us to go back, I’m afraid it will always be there between us. Still on the upswing of our date, I’m not swinging backward tonight.
“Lily,” I warn.
“Okay.” She sighs. “If you want to do it right, it shouldn’t be until date three for sex.”
“It sounds like you know a bit about this?” I realize I haven’t asked her if she’s dating anyone, but I don’t think I want to know the answer. I don’t even want to consider her cheating on someone, but that would be the pot calling the kettle black.
“Not really. I read a lot of romance, though.”
“Romance, huh?” I nip at her again where her shoulder meets her neck. “Okay, so sex on the third date? Shit, I messed this up.” I wouldn’t trade the sex we’ve had, though, and I’m running out of days. It’s already Wednesday night. I only have two evenings left before we leave.
Lily squirms before me, causing her ass to rub against the front of my shorts.
“Maybe it’s the third time you have sex should be on the night of the first date?” she suggests, hesitantly, but a light purr as she curls into my hard-on tells me she has no question as to what she wants.
“I like that rule better,” I say, gripping her hip tighter, holding her firmly against me as I deepen the bites on her skin before attending to the rest of her body.
+ + +
I wake alone again.
“I give up,” I huff aloud. I don’t understand this woman. She’s an early
riser, for one thing. I envision her jumping out of bed ready to start the day at a sprint instead of a jog, but I wish she’d linger next to me. To my surprise, I find her downstairs curled up in the oversized chair in the living room, wearing one of my T-shirts. She’s staring out the window even though a book rests on her lap.
“Mornin’, Lily pad,” I say, crossing the room and kneeling before her.
“Hey,” she says quietly. I slip my arms around her legs, and she rakes her fingers through my hair. A soft grin that doesn’t reach her eyes greets me.
“How long have you been awake?”
“Just a little while,” she offers without more explanation.
“You’re breaking the rules,” I tease, hoping to lighten whatever is on her mind. “You keep leaving the bed when the rule is not to let me wake alone.”
Her smile deepens only a little.
“What’s in that pretty head of yours, sugar?” I ask, lifting a finger to brush back her hair. Her eyes lower, but I’m not letting this question slide, no matter how good she is at redirecting. To my surprise, she answers with something I didn’t expect.
“It just seems like too much. If I stay, it makes it seem so…so official.” Her eyes squint at me before looking away. “That’s not the right word. I don’t know how to explain it. It just seems lying in bed makes a statement, and you said—”
My thumb has been stroking her cheek, but I move it to her lips to stop her.
“Forget what I said. I don’t want to request anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not uncomfortable,” she says, chewing at her lips as her eyes return to her lap. “It’s too comfortable.”
“Lil?” I don’t want to scare her, but is she saying what I think? Does she feel the same way as I do? I find it comforting to be in bed with her, too. It feels right. I don’t know how things will be in a few days when we return north, but I know I don’t think I can sleep without her ever again.