by Beth Burnett
Chapter Thirteen
This morning, I’m setting aside all of my philosophical questions and settling in to enjoying my day with Heather. First plan, kick her ass with a hard run. I picked her up exactly at nine, and we decided to drive over to Rocky River to run the trails over there. She’s ahead of me right now, but that’s because I’m enjoying the view from behind. We’re taking the long way around, so there will be plenty of time for me to put on some speed and leave her in the dust.
Heather glances back at me, smiles, and puts on a little speed. Not bothering to pace her, I’m jogging along. The day is perfect. It’s not too hot, the sun is out, and there is a sweet little breeze blowing through the woods. I love the look of dappled sunlight. It gives a surreal feeling to the whole run, with the juxtaposition of sun and shade. My thoughts are lazy and relaxed throughout the run. For once, I’m not analyzing anything. I’m simply enjoying the warmth and the exertion and the sheer joy of running in the sun with a beautiful woman.
Hitting the turn around, I put on a burst of speed. Heather hears my steps and speeds up trying to put in some distance. My long legs easily take the punishment and I am next to her in moments. She grins at me and speeds up, but she can’t outrun me. I stay on her without much effort, letting her pace herself out. She’s working hard now, not wanting to give me this race. I wait until we’re about a mile from the end and throw myself into it, leaving her so far behind she loses sight of me. Half a mile later, I’m leaning against a tree, waiting for her to come around a corner. She comes tearing into view and laughs when she sees me. Easing up, she jogs toward me at an easy pace and then slows to a walk.
She smiles at me. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
“Did you decide to quit?” she asks.
“No, I thought we could walk the rest of the way.”
Reaching out to take my hand, she nods. She’s flushed and out of breath, and she looks lovely. I’m half tempted to talk her into the bushes with me, but with my luck, I’d end up with a case of poison ivy. Or a park ranger would show up at just the wrong moment.
We walk slowly through the woods, not talking. Her hand fits nicely into mine. I lift it and look at her slender fingers. Kissing the back of her hand, I smile at her. She grins back, happy. I’m feeling a wave of sleepy happiness pulse through me. We had planned to go play mini golf after our run, but I’m considering asking her if she wants to come home with me for lovemaking and maybe a movie and a nap. Maybe I am getting old.
“What are you thinking?” Heather asks.
“I’m debating whether we should skip putt putt and go to my house instead.”
“Well, I need a shower and a change of clothes after that run.”
“Why don’t I take you home for a change of clothes and then we’ll go to my house?”
She shakes her head. “Why don’t you take me home to change my clothes and then you can take me out to breakfast?”
I snap my fingers, feigning disappointment. “Does that mean you don’t want to ravage my hot bod?”
She laughs. “No, it means I don’t want to ravage you until after I’ve ravaged a couple of eggs and some bacon.”
“I always lose to food.”
“It’s okay, you have a nice personality.”
“Ah, the consolation prize!”
We walk past a couple of guys. They turn around to check Heather out. Turning around to glare at them, I catch the look on her face. She’s amused.
“What?”
“They’re just looking.” She smacks me on the arm. “Don’t go all butch on me.”
“I am butch. I don’t like assholes leering at you.”
She shakes her head. “They weren’t leering. They were just looking. If I felt threatened, I would do something about it.”
“Like what?”
“I’m not helpless, Andy. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not saying that you can’t. I’m just saying that it’s best to let them know that their actions are being noted.”
She scoffs. “You’re being paranoid. Not every man is a rapist.”
“I’m not saying they are,” I snap. “I’m just saying a good looking woman like you needs to be careful.”
“Rapists don’t care what a woman looks like. They’re assholes who are looking to overpower someone to make themselves feel bigger.”
“I don’t want to get into an argument about the psychology of rapists. I want you to promise to be careful.”
Heather reaches up and pushes some hair out of her face. She looks exasperated. I don’t know why I’m arguing about this. All I know is that I’m worried about something happening to her. It’s been a long time since I felt this protective about someone other than my chosen family and it’s a little disconcerting. I let go of her hand and put my arm around her shoulder.
“Heather. I’m sorry. Let’s not fight. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She stops and looks up at me. Standing on her toes, she kisses me on the nose. “Andy, thank you. I’m happy that you care about my safety. But I promise you that I am well aware of the dangers of the world, and I think I am pretty careful when it comes to my safety.” She pauses, grinning. “Besides, I’m not completely fragile.”
She whips a knife out of her cleavage, flicks it open and has it to my throat before I can react.
I reel back, impressed.
“My apologies.” I’m laughing as she puts the knife away. “I didn’t realize you were Chuck Norris.”
She laughs, too. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast.”
We jump in the car and chat easily on the way back to her place. There’s always a change of clothes in my vehicle, so I grab it and we head upstairs to her apartment.
She strips in the hallway and looks at me over her shoulder on the way into the bathroom. “Don’t you need a shower?” she asks.
I quickly tear off my running clothes and race into the shower. We soap each other and I wash her hair. She rubs shampoo into my fuzzy scalp and kisses my face while I nudge her with my forehead. My hands slide up over her breasts and she bats them down. “Come on. We need to get clean and then eat.”
Defeated, I wrap my arms around her, pull her close for a deep kiss and swing her around so I can get under the water stream. I rinse off quickly and leave her to finish conditioning or exfoliating or whatever it is that regular women like to do in the shower.
When I’m completely dressed, I rummage through her kitchen. She has a full rack of spices, most of them used. Her cupboards are fully stocked with a wide range of interesting food items. Checking the fridge, I see grass-fed beef, hormone-free chicken, salad greens, and all sorts of fruits and vegetables. I grab a handful of blueberries and rinse them in the sink. She comes out as I’m popping them into my mouth.
“Make yourself at home, Andy.”
“Thanks. I will.”
She shakes her head, smiling. “Are you taking me out for breakfast?”
“Is it mandatory?”
“It is if you want to do anything else today. I’m hungry.”
“What if I make you breakfast here?”
She pretends to frown, debating. “What are my options.”
“A cheese and veggie omelet with a side of bacon.”
“You’ve obviously scoped out my fridge.”
“It will be as good, if not better than anything we could get at Denny’s.”
She starts setting the table, and I get to work in the kitchen. With veggies chopped and cheese shredded, I start whisking the eggs. Even Davey, my lifelong vegetarian friend has to admit that there is nothing like the smell of cooking bacon. Whistling as I work, I cut up some fruit and put it in a bowl. Heather has brewed a pot of coffee and is pouring a cup for each of us. I pause to take notice of her long legs as she’s whipping around the kitchen. She turns to look at me over her shoulder and her long, strawberry-blond hair slides across her back.
“Earth to Andy.”
“I�
��m here.”
“Cream? Sugar?”
“Straight up.”
“Ah, you’re tough. I use creamer in mine.”
“Want to talk about what’s in cow’s milk?”
She shakes her head. “Want to talk about the bacon we’re about to eat?”
“Touché.”
She finishes the table as I slide the omelets onto our plates. Adding a couple of pieces of bacon and a piece of toast for each of us, I bring the plates to the table.
“Masterpieces!” Heather is dutifully impressed.
She reaches over for a piece of fruit and feeds it to me. I let my mouth close around her finger, sucking the juices from her skin. Her eyes are on me throughout breakfast, and unless I have completely lost my ability to read signals, we are going to bed after this meal. We eat hurriedly, and I lean back in my chair to watch her as she does the dishes.
“Let’s save the dishes for later,” I whisper.
“Not a chance,” she retorts.
“That’s fine. I need to go scope your bookshelves anyway.”
I wander through the apartment to her bedroom and sit on the floor in front of her biggest bookshelf. I had noticed this when I was here before, but I was a little too preoccupied at the time to pay much attention to it. We have some of the same tastes in literature, but she has a heavy selection of feminist texts and non-fiction. I tend to avoid educational texts. I figure I can learn everything I need to know from the internet. I scan the shelves looking for Heather’s own book, but I don’t see it. Despite my lack of interest in either feminism or education, I want to read her book. I have a feeling there is a deeper intellect in there that hasn’t shown itself yet. I wonder if I’ll bore her after a while.
My phone beeps. It’s a text from Maggie. “Just wanted to say hi. Missing you. Want to hang?”
Smiling, I answer her. “Can’t. At Heather’s. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Ah, and how is the new woman?”
“Fantastic. I just cooked us breakfast.”
“You cook?” I can hear the disbelief even through the typed words.
“I can cook when motivated. Not usually motivated.”
“This one motivates you?”
“More motivated by not wanting to eat at Denny’s.”
“LOL. Be careful. She has marriage written all over her.”
“Gotta go, Mags.”
“Bye.”
Heather comes in. “Sounds like your phone was going crazy.”
“Maggie was saying hello.”
“I see. Anything interesting on my bookshelves?”
“Interesting that there isn’t a copy of your book.”
She rummages behind her. “I have a copy in the living room and a copy in my desk.” She hands me the thick volume. It feels solid in my hands and looks professional. It also looks incredibly dense. I wonder if I’ll be able to get through it. Stretching out on the bed, I start to look through it. Heather stretches out next to me. Her hair smells good. I wrap one of my arms around her and she nestles her head on my shoulder. The book is awkward to hold with one hand so I put in on the nightstand.
“Was it hard to write?”
She shakes her head against my shoulder. “The research took me years. The writing wasn’t anywhere near as hard as that.”
“How did you sell it?”
“A professor of mine in the Women’s Studies department read it and sent it to her publisher. We both specialize in the same field, so she was pretty interested.”
“I don’t really consider myself a feminist.”
“Then you probably have the wrong idea of what feminism means.”
“It isn’t a bunch of women running around burning bras and beating up men?”
She smacks me. “Very funny.”
“Come on,” I’m laughing. “I know that isn’t the case. But I’m not some radical either.”
“I’m not a radical. I just think that women deserve to be treated fairly. I believe we have the right to walk the streets without being subjected to harassment or rape. I believe that we should earn equal pay for equal work.”
“Okay, okay.” I kiss her on the top of the head. “I agree with all of that stuff, too.”
She sighs. “I’m not trying to be some hard ass. It’s just the more you start reading about this stuff, the more you realize how bad it really is.”
She starts to tell me about the research she did for her book and for some of her classes. Her voice is firm and authoritative. I’m struck by her passion and her intelligence. My arms tighten around her as she continues to talk. It feels so cozy here in this bed. My eyes feel a little heavy. I snuggle in deeper and listen to the sound of her voice.
“Andy?”
It’s gotten warm in the room. I’m still wrapped around Heather, but I’ve thrown off the covers. She’s smiling at me.
“What time is it?”
“About two.”
“Two. How long did you let me sleep?”
“I didn’t let you do anything. You started snoring and I thought it was a good time for a nap, so I snuggled in next to you.”
“Sorry.” Passing my hand over my face, I reach over for my cell and glance at the time. Sure enough, it’s just after two.
I kiss her nose and sit up. “Want to make out?”
“Yes, but I have to brush my teeth first.”
“Me too.”
“I have a clean toothbrush in the cupboard.”
“Just in case?”
“Just in case.”
We spend the next several hours in bed, talking, kissing, cuddling, and stroking each other, but by some unspoken agreement, it never progresses into sex. That’s not to say that I’m not aroused, I am. It’s just that we seem to be having a get to know each other day, and we’ve just stepped away from sex so that we can talk. It feels a little uncomfortable for me. I’m not used to spending this much time in bed with a woman for any other purpose than sex. Still, it does feel nice to touch her soft hair and kiss her mouth and hear what she has to say.
We’re sitting up in bed playing cards. Heather is kicking my ass.
“I don’t know if we can date. I don’t want to lose at everything.”
She grins. “You beat me running.”
“Only at the expense of my poor, tired body.”
“Bullshit.” She laughs. “I’m sure you’re used to winning at most things. It’s good for you to be humbled every once in a while.”
“Maybe,” I say doubtfully.
“It’s almost six o’clock,” she says suddenly.
“Do we have a hot date?”
“No, but that omelet was a million years ago and I’m ready for some food.”
“I thought the handful of trail mix was delightful.”
She slaps me on the head. “Let me finish kicking your ass at this game and then we’ll go.”
“I have a better idea.” I swing my feet over the side of the bed and stand up, stretching my back to get the kinks out. “Let’s say you killed me, and we’ll go get some food and drinks.”
Heather decides she needs another shower and a change of clothes for the evening. I’m perfectly happy in my jeans and muscle shirt tonight. I send Leah a quick text while I’m waiting for Heather. “Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking about you. Hope you’re feeling better today.”
There are several notifications on my cell phone. I had turned the ringer off while Heather and I were in bed. Checking it now, I have a few messages. Davey checked in to say hi. Renee wrote that she just finished reading a book I might like. Maggie texted a picture of herself smiling. I write back to her first. “Beautiful. Where are you in this picture?” She responds while I’m writing to Davey and Renee. “Lakewood Tavern with the guys. Why don’t you and the girlfriend come over and meet us for cocktails?” “I’ll have to ask Heather.” When she comes out of the bathroom, I grin at her. She’s wearing jeans, but her shirt is some kind of girly looking thing that is low-cut in the front and swings
out around her waist. Her hair is shining, of course. She looks fresh faced and extremely young. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss her mouth, tasting her fruity lip gloss.
“You look delicious.”
She kisses me back, pressing her body against me. In a flash, I have her up against the wall, pressing my thigh in between her legs, biting my way down her neck. She presses my head down harder to her skin with one hand and reaches her other hand down to one of my breasts. My mouth is back on hers and her tongue is slipping lightly over my lips. Her mouth is wet and waiting for me. I can imagine how it will feel moving down my body. She moves her hand off of my breast and down to my waist, pulling up my shirt to get inside of it. In a heartbeat, she’s back on my breast, this time without fabric between us. Her fingers stroke my nipple, pulling at it until it’s hard. I moan and crush her up against the wall. She kisses me deeply and then draws back to look at me. Trying to control my breathing, I back up a bit and rest my forehead on her shoulder.
“First dinner, then dessert,” she says, laughing.
“You’re tormenting me.”
“You like it.”
She’s right. I do like it. We back away from each other and go back down to the parking lot. I see her into the SUV and come around to my side.
Hesitating, I look across at her.
“Yes,” she says, lightly.
“Maggie texted and asked if we wanted to meet her and Steve and Erik at Lakewood Tavern.”
Heather raises her eyebrow at me. “Is that something you want to do?”
“Well, we need to eat and it might be fun.”
She looks out the window. “That will be fine.”
“Fine as in you’re pissed, or fine as in you’d like to go.”
“I guess I don’t see going out to dinner with your ex-girlfriend as a great romantic date.”
“We dated twenty years ago. Now she is just a good friend. And you like Steve and Erik. I just thought it would be fun. We don’t have to go.”
“No, let’s go. It will be fun.”