by Lydia Rowan
Chapter Ten
By the third day, he’d run out of excuses to keep her. And the fact she’d soon leave made him way too unhappy for his liking. She’d only be five hundred yards away, but that may as well have been five hundred miles, especially when he’d gotten used to having her so close, close enough to kiss, close enough to slide himself into… He shook his head.
“Don’t worry, Joe,” she said with a little smile. “I won’t be underfoot for much longer.”
So pretty, but sometimes so dense. He started to correct her, but then changed his mind. What could he say? That he wanted her to stay? Joe looked over toward her, uncertainty creeping in his mind. Sex with her must have warped him somehow. He’d always thought he had at least some inkling of what Verna was thinking, but now he had no clue. Was she anxious to leave, or was he just reading into it? Her passion hadn’t waned, quite the opposite. As she’d relaxed, gotten more comfortable, it had only grown. But still, that didn’t mean she wanted to continue what they’d started, and as cowardly as it was, he was afraid to ask for clarification.
“So what happens tomorrow?” she said.
“The power looks to be coming back on in most places, so they’ll start moving through, fixing any remaining outages and then work on debris removal.”
“Joe,” she scoffed, looking at him sternly. “I wasn’t talking about the storm.”
“Oh, ohh…” he said, allowing a little smile of embarrassment to cross his face.
“Well?” she said.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Neither do I,” she said, shaking her head now.
“What do you want to happen?” he said
“What do you want to happen?” she responded.
After a beat of silence, they both laughed.
“Fine, supersoldier, I’ll go first.” She sobered. “I’d like to see you again, but only if you want to,” she hurriedly added.
“Good. I want to.” Then it was his turn to sober. “Verna, are you sure it’s a good idea though?” As much as he wanted to see her again, as nearly impossible as it was to imagine not being with her again, he was uncertain. They had chemistry, true enough, but he couldn’t say that whatever they’d shared could exist outside of the circumstances of the storm.
“Don’t worry, Joe. I won’t fall in love with you or start following you around. Well, unless I want to creep you out for fun.”
“You say that, but feelings have a way of springing up on people.”
“My God, you are so arrogant. Maybe you’ll fall in love with me. Ever consider that?” she asked, surprisingly playful given what he’d thought would be a hard conversation.
He shrugged. He hadn’t thought of that.
“So how’s about you take care of your feelings and I’ll take care of mine?”
He nodded, and she stepped closer to him and began lifting his shirt.
“Now come give me a proper good-bye,” she said in a throaty whisper.
••••
“This is ridiculous, Joe. I can walk across two driveways unaccompanied,” she said later that evening as she and her escort stood on his front porch.
“Whatever. At least I didn’t make you wear a coat.”
She rolled her eyes, remembering how he’d insisted she bundle up for the harsh thousandth-of-a-mile journey until she’d put her foot down.
“Good point. Though as we’ve arrived on my doorstep in the time it took for you to utter that sentence, I think mine proves valid as well.”
She unlocked the door and then turned to him, unsure of what to do now. Maybe she should thank him again.
“Thanks—”
He cut her off with a quick, hard kiss on her lips.
“We’ll talk later,” he said and then headed back toward his house.
“Try not to miss me too much,” she said when she finally found her voice.
He didn’t stop, but she heard his deep laugh, which triggered her own. When he reached his porch, he turned back and she waved. Then he closed the door and she closed hers, trying to ignore how empty her house seemed now that she’d shared his.
••••
Joe had wanted to look back, see Verna’s smiling face, but he didn’t. He’d had a hard enough time accepting that she was leaving and knew that if he’d looked back, he might have done something embarrassing like ask her to stay. So he spent the evening moving from room to room, remembering how warm Verna was, the silky softness of her skin, how indescribably incredible he felt when he was deep inside her.
A buzz from his cell phone pulled his attention away from thoughts of Verna.
U in?
The message was from Sommers, and though Joe didn’t have specifics, he knew the message could only mean the team had been deployed.
No.
He wasn’t in and hadn’t even been notified that something was up. And even worse, he felt relief that he hadn’t been included, and that relief left in its wake a sense of shame that left him breathless. He’d asked for a break and gotten it, and he couldn’t pretend that spending three days with Verna, or even spending three days alone, wasn’t preferable to what he might face out there.
It was the truth, one he’d eventually have to come to accept, but it also cut him deep, proved that he wasn’t the man he used to be.
Cool. C U later.
He could imagine Sommers, excited, ready to go conquer the world, where he was just an old man past his prime.
Disgusted, he shook his head and walked up to his bedroom, the silence and emptiness of what had been a full and vital place with Verna in it pressing down on him, making him long for her presence so deeply that the need for her was a physical ache.
But he wouldn’t surrender to it.
Verna didn’t see it, but he did. She was so full of life, had her entire future ahead of her, and she needed someone who had the same, not a washed-up has-been like him.
So he’d spend time with her, didn’t think it would be possible for him not to, but he’d keep his distance, make her keep hers, and when she was ready, he’d let her fly.
Chapter Eleven
Waking up without Joe the next morning was odd and more than a little scary. Odd because in three short days, she’d gotten accustomed to seeing him the instant she opened her eyes, had come to expect to feel his warm, solid body next to hers. Scary because in three short days she’d gotten accustomed to seeing him the instant she opened her eyes, had come to expect to feel his warm, solid body next to hers.
And that just wouldn’t do. There were no parameters here, no hard and fast rules that she could follow, but getting used to being in Joe MacDermid’s bed, in his life, was a risky proposition, riskier than any she’d ever undertaken. She had to maintain distance, do as she’d told Joe she would and take care of her own feelings. And that meant always remembering that this thing between them was as fleeting as a comet, a crazy, improbable moment in both their lives, but entirely impermanent. How could it be anything else? No matter what they’d shared in the days past, she was Verna and he was still Joe, and he’d eventually end up with someone like him, someone worthy of him, someone who was the opposite of Verna. So she’d enjoy whatever time they shared, but she wouldn’t make it more than it was, couldn’t allow herself to hope that it might last, and she certainly couldn’t let herself to get used to it, or any more used to it. If she remembered that, she might make it out unscathed.
Her ringing phone drew her from her thoughts, and for a split second, hope that it was Joe bloomed in her chest like a bouquet of flowers. She squashed it as quickly as she could. It was just that kind of thinking she’d been warning herself against moments ago, the kind of thinking that would get her heart broken.
The phone rang again, and she answered without looking at the caller ID. If it was Joe, great, but if not, equally great. She had a life, or at least was finally starting to build one, and she wouldn’t make him the centerpiece.
“Hello?” she said.
&n
bsp; “Verna, where have you been? I’ve been looking for you!” her father said.
She doubted he’d been looking that hard, but suppressed that thought. It wasn’t like she’d wanted him out in the storm, but she was still hurt and angry at him, and disappointed that this was his first attempt to reach out to her since he’d so callously fired her. She had half a mind to hang up, but she didn’t, instead gripping the phone as tight as she could.
“I lost power,” she said, pretending she didn’t know that most everyone else had as well. She also tried to ignore the fact that for other than a brief moment, her father and the cafeteria hadn’t crossed her mind. A little niggle of guilt sprang up at that thought. She’d been so entirely enraptured in Joe, she hadn’t spared them, or anyone really, a second thought.
“Yeah,” her father said, voice softening, “we did too. Is yours back on?”
“It is,” she responded.
“And you’re…okay?”
Did she detect a faint hint of concern?
“Yeah, I’m fine. And you guys are okay?”
“Yes. And I’m opening the cafeteria today. You should come by. We might need an extra hand.”
Verna was both surprised and not. This could have been her father’s attempt to say he was sorry, or maybe it was a cynical ploy to get more free labor on what would undoubtedly be a busy day as Thornehill tried to get back to normal. She decided not to think too hard about either. She figured that by now the roads had improved, but there was still snow and ice on the ground, her car was still on the side of the road, and after her latest adventure, she’d lost what little taste she’d had for snow driving anyway. Of course, Joe would probably be happy to take her to pick it up…
No, she wouldn’t even think of asking him, of letting herself slip just that much deeper when she did.
“I can’t, Daddy. The driveway is covered, and I don’t want to risk it. Oh, and you fired me, remember? Good luck, though,” she finally said.
The miles that separated her and her father didn’t lessen the feel of his disapproval as it floated down the phone line and directly into her brain. But she ignored it. There were no other options, and truth be told, she was in no hurry to see him again.
“Are you really so ungrateful?” he asked in that tone of his that demanded an answer. But she held her tongue. She wouldn’t disrespect him, but she didn’t owe him anything. Long, tense moments passed, but Verna didn’t let guilt or obligation move her.
“Good-bye, Verna.”
He hung up, and for the first time she could remember, guilt at disappointing him didn’t leave her almost paralyzed. In fact, she felt great, energized, like she’d just completed a spectacular feat. And, she thought wryly as she sat at her sewing machine, she knew exactly who she had to thank for that.
••••
The next day, Verna decided she’d probably better go retrieve her vehicle before it got towed. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to the walk, but calling her parents was out of the question, and Joe…calling Joe was way beyond out of the question. The urge to call him or go over had been stronger than she could have dreamed, but she’d resisted the temptation. It was stupid and probably childish, but she didn’t want to cling, force herself somewhere she might not be wanted, so she’d decided to let him make the first move. And she also didn’t want to rely on his kindness. He’d done enough for her already; she wouldn’t ask for more.
The whole situation was somewhat surreal. It was all so vivid, every kiss, every touch, every quiet moment, but in the evening that had passed since they’d been together, she’d started to wonder if she was misreading what had happened, or maybe making more of it than there had been.
While she was definitely no longer a virgin—and Lord how she’d thought about him above her, inside her, wishing she could feel that almost indescribable pleasure again—there was still something fantastical about the whole thing, like maybe, possibly it had all been a dream.
And if she was being honest, she was bone-deep terrified. What if he regretted what had happened? Her gut twisted at the thought, one that seemed more plausible with each passing second. What if, while she’d been replaying every moment in her head, he’d been lamenting the entire thing? He hadn’t contacted her either, a decision she’d hoped was born of something other than regret. Or maybe it had meant nothing at all to him. Ugh, she didn’t know which was worse, but this feeling, the swirling confusion that crowded her brain, was the reason she had to be careful, why she had to keep her distance, emotionally if not physically.
But she needed to put her emotions aside for the moment. Her car wasn’t getting any closer, and that walk wasn’t getting any shorter. So she bundled up as best she could, grabbed her keys, and walked out the front door, bumping into a retreating Joe.
She jumped, startled, and he turned, laughter—and was that guilt?—lighting his eyes at her no doubt ruffled expression.
“I know,” he said, the thunder of his deep voice surrounding her and soothing any irritation she felt, “I gotta stop sneaking up on you.”
After nodding curtly, she turned and locked the door, mostly using the motion as an excuse to break eye contact and to buy time so that she didn’t throw herself into his arms despite how much she wanted to.
“Well, what’s up?” she asked a moment later.
“I…” He trailed off and looked toward her driveway. “I wondered if you had thought about your car.”
“Yep,” she said, “I was just going to get it.”
It was his turn to look irritated. “Alone? Were you going to walk?”
“Yes. And yes.”
He gave her a chiding look that would have made her father proud. “Why didn’t you ask me?”
“Joe, I didn’t want to bother you. I know you probably have stuff to do, and getting Verna Love out of trouble should not be your job.”
Surprisingly, he chuckled and she returned the laugh on instinct, though she wasn’t sure what had triggered his humor.
“What?” she finally said.
He reached up and cupped her cheek, trailing his thumb along her jaw before letting it come to rest atop her thick scarf. It took everything she had not to burst into flames, his touch having ignited fierce desire inside her in a single instant.
“I was just thinking. If Joe MacDermid referred to himself in the third person, Verna Love would positively skewer him for his arrogant self-regard.”
His expression silently dared her to disagree, the laughter in his eyes deepening into lust and what she thought might be affection. She pursed her lips, hoping to convey displeasure, but she knew he could see right through it to the longing that she felt.
“Well, Verna Love does have a certain panache that others may not, so while you’re correct that she might ordinarily find that habit unfortunate, when she does it, it’s totally cool.”
Laughter, rich and deep, rumbled from his chest and she joined in.
A moment later he said, “It’s no trouble, Verna. You’re no trouble.”
Those simple, kind words softened her resolve and made it impossible for her to say no to his unasked question.
“I suppose you could give me a ride,” she said, her tone far more even and flippant than she’d thought she’d be able to manage.
“Yeah, I could do that,” he said. “And maybe dinner after?”
He looked at her with a heated gaze that promised so much more than sustenance, one she couldn’t wait to see later.
“What are you waiting for, Jojo? Let’s go.”
Chapter Twelve
Through some unspoken agreement, they’d fallen into a routine. Verna would spend all day sewing or sketching and he’d do whatever. Then, around dinnertime, maybe a little after, he’d call or come over and drag her to his place, where they’d share dinner, one that she usually prepared, her chiding him for the “totally illogical” way he’d set up his kitchen. At one point, she’d gotten fed up looking for something, and she’d spent three hours re
arranging things to her satisfaction. But he hadn’t minded, because he’d had a chance to tease and stroke her, watch the fire of arousal light in her eyes as she’d tried to maintain her huffy exterior.
And then he’d gotten to make love to her right there in the middle of the kitchen. She still blushed when she looked at the spot on the floor where he’d stroked her with his tongue until she climaxed, an expression that made him want to do the same thing again and again.
In fact, he was still constantly surprised by how amazing sex with Verna was. It was dickish, he knew, but he’d kind of thought he’d be with her a few times, and then she’d be out of his system and then be free to move on, leaving him to do the same. But nothing could be further from the truth. Sex with Verna—he struggled mightily to keep himself from thinking of it as making love—was as combustible as the woman, sometimes funny, sometimes sweet, sometimes shy, and even pissed off on occasion. He feared he was fast becoming addicted to it. And to her.
And it scared the crap out of him.
Sure, some bedroom games with a friendly enemy were one thing, but somewhere along the way, it’d become something more than that, at least to him. He craved her, not her body, but her, the way she chattered, the way she swore, the way she asked a million questions about everything. Having Verna around had made him realize that he’d been so lonely for so long that he’d lost sight of what it was like to have someone in his life. Not that there’d ever been someone like her. There hadn’t. Ever. And that scared him even more, as did the way his thoughts strayed to her no matter what he was doing, and the way that he had to forcibly restrain himself from asking her to stay over at night.
She hadn’t slept over since the storm; he figured she didn’t want to wear out her welcome, so at some point during the night, whether they’d made love or not, she’d gather her things and leave, and he’d watch her walk across the lawn and into her house, biting his tongue not to scream at her to stay. He’d never even suggested it, and to his shame, preferred she think he didn’t want her over to having her find out the truth. He could barely believe it himself, but he wanted nothing more than to again hold her in his arms all night, wake up to her smiling eyes in the morning.