Waiting for You

by Elle Spencer

  “This won’t take long.” Ben pulled into a parking spot and got out of his truck. He dropped the tailgate and hopped on. “Have a seat. It’s clean.”

  Ben’s big red truck was obviously his pride and joy. Ren had never seen such a shiny clean truck before. She reluctantly walked over and sat next to him. “What’s up?”

  “I heard some things. Things involving you and my ex-wife.”

  “Ex being the operative word.”

  Ben chuckled. “You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

  “And you’re here to warn me off?”

  “Just to let you in on a few facts.”

  His arrogant tone annoyed her. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.” She went to push off the tailgate, but Ben grabbed her arm.

  “You’re going to want to hear this.”

  She removed his hand. “You have thirty seconds.” He was making her uncomfortable, but she was curious about what he had to say.

  “Lindsay wholeheartedly believes that she has memories of a past life. Like, for real, lived another life, remembers it, remembers people from it.”

  Ren remembered Patty saying something about past lives, but Lindsay had never said a word about it.

  “Flash forward to when you roll into town and bam! Lindsay can now live out her past life fantasy for real.”

  “I’m not sure I fully understand what you’re saying here.”

  “Brooke told me that Lindsay believes you to be the reborn version of a woman named Roo. A woman…I don’t like to use the word obsessed, but Lindsay’s been preoccupied with this woman for a long time.”

  “I think we’re done here.” She wasn’t clear on what any of this meant, but she didn’t want to hear any more about Lindsay from him. He didn’t try to stop her when she hopped off this time.

  He did the same and closed the tailgate. “It was a shadow over our life. I just thought you should know,” he said with fake concern in his voice.

  “I don’t know. You both seem to be doing just fine. Besides, I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions. Thanks.” Ren walked to her car and opened the door. She turned back toward Ben. “In my experience, when someone says ‘I just thought you should know,’ what they really mean is they thought they could piss you off. Nice try, but I’m still on my way to see Lindsay, and I’ll be sure to relay your concern to her as well.”

  * * *

  The doormat said Welcome You Are. It had an outline of Yoda on it. Ren stared at it, annoyed at its wackiness. The whole thing felt weird. She considered turning around and marching right back down the walkway. To her car. To Deb’s to get her things. Then to the airport. What would her life be like if she did that? How much would she think about Lindsay?

  It wasn’t like her to show up empty-handed, but it also wasn’t like her to show up to the house of her supposed past life lover, which that same past life lover failed to mention. Champagne seemed a bit too celebratory for the occasion. As she rang the doorbell, she wondered if there was a flower that said, “Thanks a lot. It was great being played.” She stuffed her hands in her coat pockets. The temperature had taken a sudden dive. She was pretty sure it wouldn’t feel much different inside.

  Sir Barksalot was living up to his name on the other side of the door. Lindsay opened it and said, “Hey!” She gave Ren a light kiss on the lips. “I’ve got something on the stove. Make yourself at home.”

  Fuck. She was so cute. So comfortable. Ren watched as she jogged back into the kitchen, looking adorable in her frayed, paint-covered overalls.

  Ren closed the door behind her and bent down to give Sir Barksalot some attention so he’d stop barking. He gave her hand a good sniff and licked it, then trotted away. “Oh, so you’re the love ’em and leave ’em type. I see how it is. I understand the inclination, Barks.”

  Lindsay came back into the foyer. “I lost track of time in the studio and didn’t get a chance to change. Give me a few minutes, okay?”

  “Oh my God. You realize you’re one hundred percent Tom Cruise showing up for a date after a beach volleyball game, right?”

  Lindsay scoffed. “I am not. First of all, this is my house, something Maverick couldn’t say. And secondly, I’m pretty sure you’ll prefer me, you know, clean.”

  Ren looked up from scratching behind Sir Barksalot’s left ear. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “You’re a smartass. Just give me ten, ’kay?”

  “Take your time. Sir Barksalot and I have lots to catch up on. Last time I was here, he went on and on about that squirrel that taunts him on the back fence. He hit me up for some peanuts he could use to lure him down. I told him I couldn’t be a part of that. Squirrels have a right to free speech. If squirrels aren’t free, is anyone really free?”

  Lindsay chuckled and shook her head. “I’ll be right down. Don’t unionize the squirrels while I’m gone.”

  Ren hated herself for acting so normal. She didn’t even know why. Because she was holding back? Acting fake? Pretending nothing was wrong? What else was she supposed to do? She needed to figure out what she was feeling. And why it pissed her off. So what if Lindsay thought they had a past together? Ren couldn’t deny their connection even if she didn’t subscribe to the same fruit loopy idea.

  Ren had been in this house before but hadn’t really taken the time to look around. Much like Deb’s house, it was a typical floor plan with the living room to the left of the front door and the dining room to the right. Stairs led up to the bedrooms, and the hallway led to a large open kitchen and family room. That much she did remember. Because that, Ren thought, is exactly the kind of thing a person should remember. The floorplan of a 1980’s two-story? Yes. Hazy details of a past life? Not so much.

  She went into the living room and took her coat off. The bookshelves that flanked the fireplace were orderly and held an assortment of books. The bottom shelf held at least a hundred children’s books, and next to it was a well-worn rocking chair with a blanket folded over the back. She imagined Lindsay reading to Brooke in that chair. The thought made her smile.

  She took a closer look at a few of the framed photos on the shelves. In all of them, Brooke was front and center. Lindsay looked so young. More like a babysitter than a mother. A child raising a child.

  Ren took her time going down the hall. Lindsay’s artwork lined the walls. Small sketches were interspersed with larger paintings. The talent on those walls was so pure. So innate. Nothing felt forced or reworked. No matter what else happened, Ren was happy she’d purchased one of Lindsay’s paintings. She’d cherish it. She promised herself she’d cherish her memories of Lindsay too, even though she knew where things would end up. Even without the hocus-pocus, it was never going to work. She was going to Paris. Free time wasn’t a perk her new job offered. And besides, Lindsay had a life and a daughter in Salt Creek.

  “I hope you like corn chowder.”

  Ren jumped at the sudden sound of Lindsay’s voice. When she turned, she hoped her mouth wasn’t hanging open. Lindsay had changed into leggings, a chunky sweater, and thick socks. The perfect outfit for a chilly October night. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and her face looked freshly washed. God, she was so beautiful. This look had her feeling all sorts of things. Not the least of which was a desire to snuggle up on the couch and watch a movie for the rest of their lives.

  “Do you?” Lindsay asked.

  “Do I what?”

  “Like corn chowder?” Lindsay walked into the kitchen.

  “Homemade? You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” Ren said.

  Lindsay stirred the soup and put the lid back on the pot. She walked over and gave Ren a light kiss on the lips. “It’s from a mix, but if it counts for anything, I diced the potatoes.”

  “Oh, good. Because being an amazing artist and also a chef? That’s, like, too good to be true.”

  “Ha. Brooke would laugh her butt off if she heard anyone call me a chef.” She gestured with her thumb toward the oven. “Also, th
ere’s cornbread. Or I have oyster crackers if you’d prefer.”

  Ren sniffed the air. “Cornbread sounds great and smells great.”

  “Is everything okay? You seem a little out of sorts.”

  Lindsay had such kind eyes. Full of concern. Ren wasn’t sure when she should bring up the conversation she’d had with Ben. Before dinner? After? Never? Could she carry on as if nothing had been said? Being with Lindsay in her home felt warm and comfortable. Familiar, even. It wasn’t a struggle to picture a life with her. She could see it all so clearly, and although it might’ve been weird to think of it that way, it felt like a huge relief. It finally felt as if someone fit.

  “I’m fine,” Ren said.

  Brooke bounded down the stairs and made a running start down the hallway, then slid on the hardwood floor until she bumped into the kitchen island. “Oh, hey, Ren.”

  She gave Ren an unexpected hug. “Hi. How was school?”

  “Oh, you know. Everyone wants the inside scoop on the pregnancy that wasn’t, but hey, I got an A on this stupid hard math test, which means my dad has to cough up twenty bucks tonight, which means I’ve finally got enough in the backpack-for-backpacking fund, so I won’t have to trek around Europe looking all lame and shi…oot, I think I hear Dad out front. Gotta run.”

  Brooke stopped to give Lindsay a kiss on the cheek. “I’m taking Barksy.”

  “Don’t forget his leash.” Barksy jumped off the sofa and barked his way to the front door. “Barksy!” Lindsay shouted.

  Ben came into the kitchen holding the pug. “His name is Bruno Mars. Not Sir whatever the hell you call him. And before you say it, I no longer live here, so I don’t have to pay the potty mouth jar.” He met Ren’s gaze and gave her a nod. “We seem to be running into each other all over town.”

  Ren didn’t feel the need to confirm his statement. Brooke’s eyes darted between them. The silence was deafening until Brooke said, “Let’s go, Dad.”

  Ren waited until she heard the front door shut before she said, “Bruno Mars?”

  “Ben loves Bruno Mars. We never agreed on the name.”

  “Huh. I would’ve pegged him for a country music fan. Well, he’s Sir Barksalot to me.”

  Seemingly unaffected by Ben’s sarcastic comments, Lindsay went to the refrigerator. “How about something to drink? Some chardonnay? Diet Coke?” Lindsay took a carton of orange juice off the shelf and lightly shook it. “OJ? Chocolate milk?”

  “I’d love a glass of chardonnay.”

  “Excellent choice. I’ll have the same.” Lindsay poured two glasses and held hers up. “Cheers.”

  In her head, Ren heard herself say, Cheers, babe. It would’ve been so easy to say the words out loud. So comfortable. So natural. But they had Paris hanging over their heads. Oh, and that minor thing Ben told her. She wondered how many people in town knew? Did all of Salt Creek think she was some reincarnated lost love? Yeah, it probably wasn’t the right time for a term of endearment. Ren held up her glass. “Cheers.”

  She sat on a barstool and watched Lindsay get two bowls and two small plates out of the cupboard. She set a place in front of Ren and another to her right.

  “We’ll go casual tonight and eat right here if it’s cool with you,” Lindsay said.

  “Sure.” Ren took a large sip of wine while she tried to talk herself out of acting on her impulses. Stay on the stool.

  Lindsay came up from behind and reached around her to set a spoon next to the bowl. Ren breathed in her scent. “You smell good.”

  Lindsay leaned down and nuzzled Ren’s neck. “So do you.”

  She walked away before Ren could steal a kiss, then came back around with a butter knife and napkin. Ren wasn’t about to let her get away untouched that time. She ran her hand under the sweater and caressed the small of Lindsay’s back. “You’re driving me crazy right now, you know that, right?” She slid her fingers under the waistband of the leggings and found bare skin. “No panties?”

  “No panties and no bra.”

  Ren’s mouth went dry. She had a sip of wine. And then another. Her eyes never left Lindsay’s body. She bent over to take the cornbread out of the oven, and Ren’s mind went right back to that night in the hotel room. She wanted to do that again, but what she wanted most was to taste Lindsay. She wanted to bury her face between Lindsay’s legs and take her higher than she’d ever been before. She wanted to be inside her and licking her at the same time. She took another sip of wine, hoping she’d forget about Lindsay’s stupid ex-husband and Paris and some dead woman who was named after a kangaroo. She stood. Fuck them all.

  * * *

  Did it make Lindsay a bad mother that she couldn’t have cared less if anyone walked into the kitchen and found her naked with Ren’s head between her legs? If it did, so be it because this was a feeling Lindsay didn’t want to end.

  Ren’s tongue felt magical. She knew exactly what she was doing, taking Lindsay to the edge and then backing off just enough to keep her from coming. It was as if they’d done this a thousand times before. Nothing felt foreign or awkward. Ren’s request for Lindsay to sit on the island was met without hesitation. She felt free in Ren’s presence. Free to drop all her walls and be both physically and emotionally naked. It felt insanely good, and Lindsay never wanted it to end.

  Lindsay reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. Ren gave her hand a squeeze and dipped her tongue inside her. Lindsay’s body clenched as her orgasm built. Her hips bucked. The connection she felt with Ren was so strong, it felt as if her heart had doubled in size. She squeezed Ren’s hand and closed her eyes as the orgasm ripped through her body.

  Nothing else mattered. Not the past. Not the future. Just this moment, when she knew she’d always been in love with Ren Christopher.

  * * *

  “Can I give you the first bite?” Lindsay held a spoonful of chowder close to Ren’s mouth.

  “Hmm.” Ren gave her a nod and a thumbs up. “Delicious.”

  Lindsay leaned in for a kiss. “You’re delicious. And my God, that tongue of yours. Holy smokes, you’re good at that.”

  “Did you seriously just say holy smokes? Surely you mean Jeez Louise or Jiminy Christmas, right?”

  “Too old fashioned for you? How about, oh my stars, that tongue of yours!”

  “Oh yeah, that’s better.” Ren laughed.

  Lindsay broke off a piece of cornbread and offered it. “Why aren’t you eating?”

  Ren ran her hands up Lindsay’s thighs. “I’m just taking it all in. Everything I feel. Your beauty. All of the words that came out of that sexy mouth when you came. I definitely don’t want to forget those.”

  Lindsay leaned forward on the barstool and until their lips almost touched. She pulled back and shook her head. “Sorry.”

  “What’s wrong?” Ren held Lindsay’s face. “Look at me. What just happened?”

  “It’s just that Patty’s been telling me I really need to share something with you, but I haven’t had the guts.”

  “Well, that sounds serious.” Ren pulled her hands away. She assumed Lindsay was going to fill her in on their past life together. Ren wished it could wait until tomorrow or the next day. Or never. She wanted to enjoy the present for what it was. She wanted to sleep naked in Lindsay’s bed. She wanted to wake up with her and make love again. Take a shower together. Cuddle on the sofa while they sipped coffee. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

  Lindsay stood and offered her hand. “Come with me.”

  The temperature had dropped even lower. Ren wrapped her arms around Lindsay from behind and waited while she unlocked the door to her studio. “I hope you have heat in there.”

  “I have a space heater. It warms up fast.”

  Ren nuzzled Lindsay’s neck and breathed in her scent. “You smell so good.” Her hand slid down Lindsay’s stomach. The thin leggings meant Ren could feel her pussy perfectly. She ran her middle finger between her legs and back up again.

  Lindsay jerked. “Do you want me
to get this door open or not?” She turned and gave Ren a peck on the lips. “Welcome to my studio.”

  Ren stepped inside. The space was small, but there were two windows, so it didn’t feel claustrophobic. Lindsay’s supplies were well organized. Canvases were stacked upright in one corner, and there was a small cot set up with a blanket and pillow. Ren sat on the cot and tucked her chilled hands between her legs. “You have a great little setup here.”

  Lindsay cranked up the heater. “I’m sorry it’s so cold. I should’ve just brought what I wanted to show you into the house.”

  “Nonsense. I’ve wanted to see where you paint. I’m kind of hoping the reason I’m out here is because you’re ready to show me some of your work.”

  “You’re in luck, then.”

  Ren rubbed her hands together. “Excellent. Let’s do this.”

  Lindsay brought an easel forward. “This is the one I wanted to show you.” She lifted the protective sheet and moved to the side.

  “She’s beautiful,” Ren said. “I’ve seen a lot of portraits, and this is just, wow.” She stood and took a closer look. “Linds, this is amazing.”

  “Thank you,” Lindsay said. “That means a lot coming from someone who knows art.”

  Ren stepped back as far as she could to get a different perspective. “And trust me, I’m not just blowing smoke up your ass because I happen to love your ass. Who is she? A client?” Lindsay didn’t answer, so Ren turned to her. “Linds?”

  Lindsay pulled the sheet off another painting she’d been putting the final touches on. She stood back and said, “When I paint a portrait for a paying client, I have them sit for me. I study their gestures, their facial expressions. I take photos of them and blow up portions of their face so I get the details just right. I work hard to get a good likeness is what I’m saying.”

  “I can tell.” Ren pushed her hair behind her ears and bent over so she could inspect the painting. “I’m guessing this guy is in his late forties. Has an abundance of confidence. Probably a great sense of humor too.”