“Obviously, he was,” I remarked.
“Not really. All I managed to get out of him was the details of what he had done that day and why he was so drunk. He tried to tell me that he didn’t usually drink so much, but I didn’t believe him. I had him pegged as a loser. Eventually, I just excused myself and got up from the couch and went to get another beer.”
“And he followed you,” I guessed.
“Nope. I think he finally got the message and, thankfully, he left with his friends shortly after that.”
Now I was confused. “If you didn’t hook up that night, then when did you actually get together?”
“Ah,” my mother said. “That’s where fate stepped in. About a month later, your Uncle Tim, who had just graduated from college that year, rented a house with two other guys. He had a bit of a thing for my best friend at the time, so he invited us both to a party he was having at the new house. We went, of course – and who do you think one of his roommates was?”
“Dad!” I replied, although I’m pretty sure her question was rhetorical.
“Yep. And sober as a judge. I was surprised he even remembered me, but he did. When we were introduced, he said, ‘I know you – the cute girl.’ I kind of rolled my eyes, I think, and then he apologized to me for being, in his words, drunk and stupid, that night. I found out he was actually very nice and I enjoyed talking to him.”
“So then you hooked up?”
“No,” she said and laughed.
“Sheesh, Mom. Why don’t you just get to the part where you did hook up?”
“Okay, okay. Long story short – I saw him quite a few times after that because of him living with Uncle Tim and I eventually came to realize that he wasn’t the loser I thought he was. He was very sweet and he could really make me laugh. And he never pointed out that I was goofy, even when I was. He thought it was cute.”
I smiled at that because my mom could absolutely be goofy. But in a very charming way.
“When he finally got around to asking me out, about two months later, I jumped on it. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“The things you don’t know,” I mused. A thought popped into my head. “I have one question.”
“What’s that?”
“That guy you were eyeing at that first party – did you manage to get his attention?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said with a very self-satisfied smile. “I got his attention. As I recall, there was some heavy making out later that night and then I found out he had a girlfriend, so that was the end of that.”
She winked at me while we laughed and then wrapped it up. “And the point of this story is that I almost threw away the right one for someone who was totally wrong. So pay close attention to who’s around you.”
I opened my mouth to question her about what exactly she meant by that when we heard the front door open and my father called out, “I’m home, Katie.”
“We’re in the kitchen, Mike,” she called back.
My dad strolled in the kitchen, headed over to me and, kissed the top of my head. “Hey there, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Dad,” I replied with a smile.
He walked over to my mom, bent down and kissed her, too. “Hey, gorgeous.”
My dad always kissed my mother hello and goodbye. Always. And when it was “goodbye” it was followed up with an “I love you.” He had told me he did that in case something happened to him when they were apart - he wanted to make sure those were the last words he ever said to her. I always thought that was so romantic and hoped I would be lucky enough to find a man who loved me that much.
“How are your teeth?” my mom asked him.
“Clean enough to eat off of,” he said with a grin.
Did I mention my dad was kind of goofy, too?
My mom smiled and shook her head and Dad went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water then sat down at the table with us.
“So what’s new with you, kid?” he asked me.
Before I could open my mouth, my mother jumped in. “Angie and Jimmy broke up. Definitely and for good.”
My dad looked at my mom and then at me. “Good news,” he said. “I thought you’d never get rid of that idiot.”
“He broke up with her,” my mom supplied helpfully.
“You have got to be shitting me!” Dad said, swinging his head back in my direction.
“I shit you not,” I responded, then brought him up to speed. “It’s over and done with, I’m not upset about it, and Mom and I already had the conversation about how I could do so much better, so you don’t have to bother.”
“Okay, good. Very good,” he said. “I’ll just say I couldn’t be happier to hear this and leave it at that. So what else is new?”
“Jack promoted me yesterday,” I informed them both.
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mom squealed. Then she paused for a moment, frowned and looked baffled. “Wait. Promoted you to what, exactly? Is Frank retiring?”
I gave them the highlights of my recent conversations with Jack, leaving out both the kiss (of course) and the embezzlement issue. I also didn’t mention Nate, although I had originally planned to. Instead I decided to wait and see where it was going, if anywhere, before I shared that information.
We talked a little longer about the job, my parents both agreeing that being Jack’s personal assistant would probably make me happier in the long run than the work I was currently doing.
After a bit more small talk, I realized I was feeling like a big, fat slug. The lasagna was sitting like a lead weight in my stomach and all I wanted to do was take a nap.
I leaned back in my chair then stretched and groaned. “I have to go. I need to get to the gym before I spend the rest of the day back in my pajamas.” As much as I wanted to blow off the gym entirely, I knew it wasn’t a good habit to get into.
“Yeah, I think I’ll hit the treadmill, myself,” said my dad. “This weather has got me feeling a little lazy and I’ve got shit to do today.”
“Well, you two go on with your healthy selves. I’m going to take a nap.” This from my mom, who despised exercising.
We all laughed and exchanged hugs, then I took off for the gym.
Chapter 7
My trip to the gym had restored some of my flagging energy, but the trip to the grocery store knocked it right back out of me. By the time I got home and was done putting away the groceries, I had already decided the rest of this day was going to be spent in my pajama pants, reading.
My stomach was giving me not-so-subtle warnings that it needed to be fed again - and soon. I lingered a bit in front of the refrigerator until I decided an egg salad sandwich would hit the spot. I put eight eggs into a pan of water - more than I needed, but enough in case Jack stopped by - put it on the stove and lit a flame under it.
While I was waiting for the water to boil, I changed into my favorite lavender pajama pants. The ones with pictures of bright yellow handbags all over them. Yeah, they were ugly in and of themselves, but adding an oversized black tee shirt and some silver and black striped lounging socks really completed the look.
I frowned briefly and cringed when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Nothing said “old maid” quite like wearing this get-up on a Saturday night. It probably wouldn’t be long before I found myself with about ten cats. I sighed and returned to the kitchen to check on the status of my water.
Finding it boiling adequately, I turned off the heat, put a lid on the pan and set my kitchen timer. With twenty minutes to kill, I picked up my Kindle and sat down in the living room to get my reading marathon started.
I was just getting into the good part – the hero and heroine were finally having sex – when I heard my storm door open, a loud trio of knocks, and then Jack walked in.
“Hey,” I said, setting my Kindle down and standing up to greet him. “What’s up?”
“Hey.” He looked me over and frowned. “Isn’t that my shirt?”
“Used to be,” I said with a smirk.
He laughed then held up the covered plastic bowl he had in his hands. “My mom asked me to bring this to you.”
“Oh. What is it?”
“Turkey chili.”
“Is it super-extra beany?”
“Yeah, very beany. I had some last night; you’ll like it,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t.
Peggy was a fantastic cook and a nice side benefit of being friends with Jack. Especially since she sent her food offerings over quite often and always made them the way she knew I liked them. Hence the turkey and the super-extra beany.
“Excellent. I’ll have it for dinner tonight.”
The kitchen timer went off just as I took the bowl from him and Jack’s head whipped around toward the kitchen.
“Are you cooking something?” he asked hopefully.
“Yeah, I’m making an egg salad sandwich. Do you want one?”
“Yes. I’m starving,” he said. “If I’d have had a spoon, I would have eaten your chili on the way over.”
His mother’s care packages didn’t always make it to me, so I was grateful my chili had been spared. He once turned over a pile of bones and a lone thigh - all that remained of a plate of fried chicken his mother had naively entrusted him to deliver.
“Okay, it’ll just be a few minutes.” I heard the sound of the television being turned on while I walked toward the kitchen and I smiled at his predictability.
After stowing the chili in the refrigerator, I had just finished firing off a thank you text to Peggy when I heard a loud, “Holy shit!” coming from the living room.
I rushed in to see what was wrong and stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Jack standing there with my Kindle in his hand. I mentally groaned, knowing he was reading the sex scene.
He looked up at me with a grin. “Jesus. What are you reading?”
“None of your business. Now give me that!” I demanded and made a grab for my book.
Still wearing that annoying grin, he made a half turn away from me, keeping the book from my grasp, and began reading theatrically. “He licked her lady lips from bottom to top, stopping only to pay special attention to the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden within her golden blonde curls.”
I felt myself turning red from my chest all the way up to my hairline. “Give me that!” I repeated - and added a punch to his back for emphasis.
He ignored the punch, but moved a few steps further away. “Hidden within her curls,” he quoted through his laughter
“Shut up, Jack,” I warned.
“And sensitive bundle of nerves?” he choked out. “Could that be any less sexy?”
“God dammit, Jack!” An irrational fury overtook me and I ran the few steps to where he was standing and launched myself onto his back. He barely flinched when I put a choke hold on his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist - he just laughed harder. “Give me my book!”
I took another stab at getting it out of his hands, but he held it straight out in front of him, just beyond my reach.
“And lady lips…oh my God. That’s hilarious.” He leaned slightly forward in his laughter, taking me with him. “What’s the point of that? Why can’t they just say vagina?”
“Because, you ignorant ass - they’re not talking about her vagina!” My voice rose several decibels on that last word and I accentuated it with another punch, this time to his shoulder.
My screaming the word “vagina” while still attached to his back like a huge, pissed-off tick was only increasing Jack’s amusement, so with one more heartfelt slap to the side of his head, I gave up the fight and slid off of him.
He gained control of his laughter and turned around to see me giving him the death stare. He ignored it. “What else could lady lips possibly mean except for vagina?”
“Oh, God,” I groaned, looking down and rubbing the heel of my hand on my suddenly throbbing forehead. “Please, I’m begging you. Stop saying vagina.”
The amped-up grin on his face belied his next words. “No, I’m serious. If they’re not talking about her vagina, what are they talking about?”
I closed my eyes briefly, prayed for strength, and haughtily informed him, “If you must know, in that particular instance they were technically referring to her vulva.”
“Another unsexy word,” he said with a frown. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference is -” I said, not even believing I was having a discussion about female anatomy with Jack. “The vagina is on the inside and the vulva is on the outside.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.” He looked like he was thinking for a moment, which was never a good sign. “So, if they wanted to encompass that whole area,” he began, waving his hand in the general direction of my crotch. “They could have just said pussy, right?”
“Oh, my God!” I snapped. “This conversation is over. And if you want me to make you that sandwich, you won’t say another word.” I shot him a warning glare, his pulled-in lips and wide eyes telling me he was trying desperately not to laugh.
“Not one more word, Jack!” I repeated, adding a pointing finger to my command. Grabbing my Kindle (so he couldn’t use it to find more fodder), I retreated indignantly to the kitchen, the sound of his laughter ringing out behind me.
I let go of my anger as I was peeling the eggs. I knew I was only angry because I was embarrassed – but I also knew Jack was never going to let me hear the end of this. If he discovered any ammunition that got me riled up, he didn’t hesitate to fire it.
If only I had been reading one of the hundreds of really great romances currently residing on my Kindle. The ones with the smoking hot sex scenes – so much better than the cheesy one I was currently involved in.
My thoughts drifted to the ill-fated kiss Jack and I had shared the day before. I had pushed it out of my mind, as it seemed he had, and there hadn’t been so much as a word about it between us. We had done it, decided it didn’t work and moved on. And that was odd, really.
I started to wonder if I had been too nervous, if he had too many things on his mind, if it was too clinical, for it to be an accurate test. I mean, I loved him and I adored kissing; I should have felt something. I had kissed many men, most far less attractive than Jack, and for whom I had no feelings whatsoever, yet I had still always managed to get at least a little turned on.
As I chopped the eggs, I considered whether it was a fear of losing him that shut down any potential lust. I’d seen too many relationships that had started off with a bang go south rather quickly once sex was added into the equation. It changed everything. If we pushed our relationship into a sexual direction and it didn’t work out, I would, without a doubt, lose what I had with him now. And I cherished that so deeply, right down to my very soul, that I suppose my subconscious wasn’t willing to let me risk it.
And who was I to argue with my subconscious?
I added mayonnaise to the eggs and let out a soft snort at the thought of “lady lips.” It really was stupidly funny – the kind of thing that would have had me rolling my eyes right out of my head when I read it.
My mind suddenly displayed a very graphic image of me, lying arched and naked on my bed, hands overhead, grasping the headboard. My legs were hooked over Jack’s shoulders, his hands gripping my hips, and he was rather hungrily going down on me.
My internal muscles clenched and released twice in rapid succession and I was instantly about ten degrees beyond turned on.
Oh my God. Where did that come from? I had never had a sexual thought about Jack. Never. But those thoughts were coming at me fast and furious now - flashes of Jack flipping and rolling me from one interesting position to the next.
Feeling myself flushing from my head all the way down to my curling toes, with an extra dose of heat warming up the center of that range, I forced myself to put those thoughts on immediate lockdown.
This was all Jack’s fault. I cursed him for using the word pussy – a word I’d never heard him use before in that particular context. Thinking about him sayi
ng that word was making me see him in a different light. A very sexual light. One little word, used casually, and my imagination was running wild. I’ll admit I’m a sucker for dirty talk. It’s a weakness that I have never confessed, but nothing shoots me closer to orgasm faster than having a man’s rough, turned-on voice whispering deliciously sinful things in my ear while he’s moving inside me.
Some men tossed a dirty word out here and there, but that’s not the kind of thing that got me. It was the telling of a story, relaying a fantasy – and using the filthiest words possible to do it - that pushed my libido into overdrive. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t examine it too closely. It was just there, and I enjoyed it on the rare occasion I was lucky enough to get it.
Jack’s creativity with the standard tall tale made me wonder if that creativity extended to audio porn. I could almost feel his body pressed to mine as I imagined him whispering in my ear.
Jesus. I had to get off of that train of thought before I had a mini orgasm in the middle of my kitchen.
Giving myself a mental shake, I cleared my head of all things sexual before I faced Jack again. He was very good at reading me and in this case, I wanted him illiterate.
I popped some bread into the toaster and walked out to the living room to ask Jack whether or not he wanted his bread toasted - and found him stretched out on my couch, fast asleep.
A fierce wave of affection rolled over me as I looked at him. When he was sleeping, he looked so deceptively innocent and, with his weekend stubble adorning his face, even more handsome, if that was possible. A smile spread across my face and I debated whether or not to wake him. He must be totally wiped out if he was sleeping. He wasn’t really much of a nap taker.
As I was standing there staring at him, with that inane smile on my face, his eyes opened and he looked right at me.
“What?” he asked, looking a bit out of it.
“Nothing. Just wondering if you wanted your bread toasted or not.”
“Oh.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Toasting takes too long, so not.”
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