Playing House
Page 7
“Why are you always so calm?”
She chuckled in that throaty way that always made me think she’d just had sex. She probably had, the cheeky tart. “Oh, Luce. It’s not so much that I’m calm, just that you’re always frantic by comparison. What has my boy done, now?”
“He’s invited that woman over.”
“His mother?”
“Toni…”
“The homeless one on the corner of—”
“Toni! This is serious. I’m not ready to meet his girlfriend yet.”
“Babe, you’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
Her sigh made me want to pinch her in the back of the arm. Lucky for her she was out of reach.
“You’re thinking too much. Don’t forget, the fact he had a girlfriend was really the main reason you let him move in.”
“And the cooking.”
She laughed again, the sow. “Of course the cooking. But Luce, you can’t complain he has a girlfriend when it’s the only reason you let him into your life. Having him move in means him being around you all the time. And that, my girl, is what’s made you so hot for him.”
“I am not!”
“Oh, you’re gonna stick with that?”
I blew her a quick raspberry. “It’s just that he gave me no time to prepare. And… and he didn’t even think about my plans. What if I had wanted to go out? Catch a movie or something.”
“The fact you’re calling me and they’re obviously not there means he at least told you in advance. You ever think about maybe saying no?”
“If all you’re going to do is throw calm logic and sensible options at me I’m afraid we can no longer be friends.”
Once again, she laughed her way out of trouble. “Anyway, I thought Saturday was cleaning day.”
I nearly tossed my phone across the room. “You’re not helping, Toni.”
“I never meant to. Luce, you’re a grown woman.”
“Overgrown woman, I’d say.”
Toni sighed. “Luce, is that what this is about?”
I swallowed heavily. “I– I don’t know.”
“Has Mark said something to upset you? Something about your weight?”
“No, no, of course not. Well, I guess he did sort of… call me boring.”
“I’ll kill him. I’m Italian, remember. I know people who can make it look like an accident.”
“No, no, he didn’t really mean it that way, he just… well, whatever. But you know my weight was a big part of why Cameron was putting it all over town. How can I know that and not take it personally?”
“Because Cameron was what, again?”
“A tool.”
“A tool. That’s right. Look, babe, Cameron’s cheating was never about you. It’s not your fault he kept you as his fallback girl. It’s not your fault he could only see with his one-eyed monster.”
“Thanks, Toni. That’s—”
“Oh, I’m not finished. You don’t get out of this scot-free. It is your fault you wouldn’t see him as he truly was. That you made excuses for his behavior. Somehow made it all right in your mind to stay with him.”
“I think I liked you better ten seconds ago.”
“And y’know, I wasn’t there or anything, but if Mark did call you boring, or if he maybe said something about your size? Then you definitely shouldn’t be making the same excuses for him.” She pressed her mouth closer to the phone. “Babe, I know it hurts to hear this. And I’m sorry I didn’t do more to open your eyes earlier. But Cameron is not the problem, and neither is Mark. Hell, not even Gabrielle is the issue here.”
“Ah, I see what you’re saying. You’re the problem.”
“Ha. Doofus.”
“Dammit. I know you’re right, T. I’d slap you down, otherwise.”
“I know it, babe.”
Despite the hardness of Toni’s words, I did feel better about the whole thing. Gabrielle was not my rival, because there wasn’t a contest. So I could just be myself and not worry about impressing her, or impressing the silly, sexy, divine man she had no right to be with.
Damn. I’d been so close.
“Okay, T. I better get moving. They’ll be here soon. Thank you.”
“Any time, babe. Well, Rob’s just walked in from the shower, so not for the next forty minutes, okay?”
“Oh, shut up, you slut.”
“Love you, too!”
With Toni’s stern, but accurate, words still running through my head, I figured my best move would be to stay calm. Be natural. Okay, so I wasn’t into fashion or make-up. And yeah, I pretty much wore workout gear or yoga pants all the time at home. The fact this Gabrielle woman was a fashion model, and had the kind of body every man lusted for, shouldn’t affect me at all.
I sat on the sofa and slipped my shoes off, putting my feet up beside me on a small cloth dedicated to that very purpose. Picking up my current book, I eased it open, drawing the bookmark out directly upward so it didn’t impart any friction on the pages. No matter how hard I tried to concentrate, though, the words all danced before my eyes, refusing to cooperate.
All I could think about was Mark’s description of me, and how much it stung. I’d had other people—mostly guys—give me hell over my little quirks. Been called everything from ‘OCD’ to ‘overbearing control freak’. It was bad enough that Mark clearly thought I was boring. Why did he have to be so gorgeous and flirty as well?
Slipping the bookmark back in and caressing my book closed, I placed it back on the side table. In frustration I rubbed at my face and sighed. The man was taken, and I wasn’t his type anyway. Not to mention my feelings for him were almost certainly based on nothing more than my opportunistic hormones. With my face in my hands I started ordering myself around.
“Stop it, Luce. You’re obsessing again.”
“Is this about the cleaning?”
“What the hell?” Magic Mark and his cotton wool feet struck again. I couldn’t keep the shrieking tone out of my voice. “I thought you were out.”
“I was. I’m back. Gabs made a last minute hair appointment, and I was only gonna be dead weight. So she let me come home.”
“She let you?”
He waved my question away. “Poor choice of words.”
His half-cooked smile was my world at that moment. That and the rich brown of his eyes. Despite everything, my body still reacted to him on a completely primal level. My breath hitched, my heart shuddered. My pussy tingled as I grew wet. I had to get this train wreck back on the rails.
Standing up, I walked to the kitchen, drawing in a little of his lovely scent as I passed him. “And, um, how come I didn’t hear your car?”
“Parked across the road. For a quick getaway.” He came right up beside me, far closer than I thought I could handle. “Anyway, I wanted to whip up a garden salad and maybe an orange cake before heading back to pick her up.”
Suddenly it was my mouth growing wet. “Cake?”
“And salad.”
“Cake?”
“You’re a classic, Luce.”
The way his words lit me up inside was amazing. Yet it still made me feel more than a little pathetic. I was supposed to be a strong, independent woman with goals and power and yada yada yada.
At that moment my mouth ran away from me, leaving my brain lying in the gutter, drunk on its cocktail of horny hormones. “You need any help?”
He cupped my chin in his hand and looked me up and down. “I don’t know, soldier. You think you’re up to the challenge?”
I struggled not to tremble at the touch of his warm hand. It took me a moment to find my breath, and a little longer to find my voice beneath it. “Well, you know my reputation. On at least three occasions I poured cereal without causing salmonella. And I once opened the right end of a can of soup.”
He opened the fridge and dug into the veggie crisper, while I turned to the cutlery drawer and chose a knife. When he turned and stood, he placed lettuce, tomato, carrot, capsicum and red onion on the counter. Then he looked at my hand and burst into laughter.
“Sorry, Lucy. I meant a real knife.”
“This is a real knife.”
“Of course it is, and it would be perfect for denting Brié.”
“I’ll dent your Brié, mister.”
He strode to the corner where the knife block stood and pulled out the biggest one we had. So very male. “Now this is what I’m talking about. Here, catch.”
Though he made no move to actually throw it, I leapt back and shrieked. “Oh! You asshole!” Still, I couldn’t help laughing along with him. The big, stupid, delectable oaf.
“As if I would. Ah, you’re a lot of fun, Luce.”
“And you’re a very big little boy, Mark.”
“Okay, enough shenanigans. Time to prepare a feast fit for a queen. Could you please cut those cherry tomatoes into quarters? I’ll get started on the cake.”
I was definitely no good with actual cooking, and never had been. That knowledge had kept me from the kitchen for most of my life. It turned out, though, I could handle a knife quite well. Perhaps it was my attention to detail and insatiable desire not to make a mess. Whatever the reason, cutting up the veggies kept me very well occupied. It also had the side-benefit of allowing me to keep my back to Mark and the terrible noisy mess he was making.
It was no wonder I never learned how to bake. Every time he came over to supervise me there was more butter on his hands, or more flour on his face. He was turning into a walking, talking gingerbread man, and if he didn’t watch out I’d be biting his leg off very soon. Or, just nibbling at some part of him, anyway. I almost cut my finger as a delightful shudder ran through my body.
“You okay, Luce?”
“Uh-huh.”
He reached out to move my hair off my forehead, but I turned away.
“Oh. Sorry.” He pulled his hand away as if I’d burned him. “That was going to be weird, wasn’t it?”
“N-no. It’s just… all that flour.” His hands were still coated in the stuff. If it had been me, I’d be stopping every thirty seconds to drown them in anti-bacterial soap.
“Oh. Yeah.”
He swallowed and went back to his black magic. A few more minutes passed where I tried not to sever an artery and he clattered like a chimpanzee in a drum shop.
“Ta-da!” Mark sounded very proud of himself so I turned to him. He had the cake all mixed and poured into a tin. He was even standing there, his hands pointing to the cake-to-be like an old time showman.
“Wow. That looks wonderful.”
“It’s just raw batter now, but soon it will bring your mouth to life.” He gave me a little wink and I barely managed not to tear my clothing off. He’d hosed himself down, and even wiped up all his mess and put everything away.
“Are you sure you’re a boy?”
“Pretty sure. I can check if you like.” He grabbed the waistband of his jeans and made as if to undo them.
“You realize I’m holding a very large, very sharp knife, don’t you?”
“Eep.”
With a warm smile, he scooped the cake up and put it into the oven, before coming over to check my progress.
“Hmm. Nice work with the blade there, lady. I think you’re done. Let’s get it all in a bowl and toss its brains out.”
I gave him a hot serving of side eye, trying to decide if he was being dirty or not. More and more with every passing day, my mind would latch onto his words and search for the naughtiest interpretation possible. Of course, plenty of times that didn’t require a lot of work. The man was a born flirt.
He rummaged in the cupboards, pulling out two large bowls and handing me the prettier one.
“You’re so good with detail and neatness. Could you please make a bed of lettuce leaves in this bowl?”
“No problem.”
“I’m sure I have more experience with tossing, so that can be my job.”
“Hmph. Where’s that knife when I need it?”
In no time we had the salad assembled and stored in the fridge. Mark glanced at his watch.
“Hmm. Still at least an hour before I need to pick Gabs up. Whatever are we going to do to fill the time?”
This was one of those moments. I could feel it in my blood. In my heightened state of gushing worship it was impossible to know his intentions. Was there a playful lilt to his voice or not? And if so, was it in any way serious, or just a way to tease the poor, chubby single girl? I was an easy target, that was for sure—literally as well as figuratively.
One thing that could not be ignored was the possibility I was just desperately trying to find some kind of invitation in there. If he did make a move on me I couldn’t imagine anything that would make me say no, which was a killer all on its own. Whatever kind of girl Gabrielle might be was immaterial. I’d been cheated on and I never wanted to be part of that again. In any role.
But on the other hand, more and more each day I imagined myself being with Mark. Little casual intimacies, nothing more. Just holding hands. Sitting on the couch watching a movie, our legs lightly resting against each other. His tongue buried deep inside the aching liquid fire of my pussy. Yeah, just casual things like that.
The heat of my daydream suddenly rose in my cheeks. I tried to cough away my embarrassment. “I… suppose I should tidy up.”
“Tidy what up? This place is cleaner than a hospital.”
“Nonsense. Look at the sink.”
“What about it?”
I picked up the dishcloth and wiped away the small droplets of water on the stainless steel rim.
“You missed one.”
“Where?”
He chuckled again. “Sorry, Lucy. You really do leave yourself open.” He must have caught my expression, judging by the way his smile faded. “It’s just that… I mean, I’m not a slob or anything, but you seem really… enthusiastic about your cleaning. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Even though he’d been joking, and it was harmless, it still cut through me. I knew how rigid I was about cleaning, and how it looked to others. Mark had already pulled at my threads when he hinted I was the most boring girl he’d ever met, but he’d never poked fun at it in any way until now. It was stupid of me, but I’d even begun to think it didn’t bother him. That maybe, just maybe, it was one little thing he liked about me.
“Well, you know, it is my house.” I couldn’t keep the defensive tone from my voice. It was all I could do to keep the tears from my eyes. “I want to make sure it’s in good condition.”
“Yeah look, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a throwaway line, and I wish I’d kept my stupid mouth shut.” He reached across the counter and gently took my hand in his. “I’m really sorry, Luce.”
I couldn’t keep my eyes from gazing at his hand, and the way it held mine. I could feel the warmth of his skin, but the touch itself seemed muffled, as though I was simply dreaming it. “Are you an alien?”
“What?”
“It’s just… boys don’t apologize. Boys don’t cook or clean. Or listen.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Boys don’t. Boys are brittle creatures. They’re scared of a hell of a lot of stuff they can’t admit.”
“Like what? Bigger boys?”
He chuckled at that. “Yeah, kind of. But it’s other stuff. Conformity isn’t a girls-only problem, y’know. Standing out for the right reasons is cool. The football star, the class clown, those are fine. But you stand out for being really smart, or sensitive, then you are, I’m af
raid, screwed.” He squeezed my hand just a little tighter. “And if you’re seen with the wrong kind of girl, you’re extra-screwed.”
“Wh-what constitutes the wrong kind of girl?”
“Pretty much anybody but a cheerleader.”
Realization dawned on me. This was his way of saying he liked me as a friend, but it could not, under any circumstances, be anything more than that. A month ago, that wouldn’t have hurt at all. Now, though, it was simply crushing.
I took in a shaky breath before I could speak. “I see.”
He leaned forward across the counter and smiled straight into my soul. “But men? Real men? That, pretty lady, is an entirely different matter.”
“How so?” My voice squeaked as if I was a teenage boy. “You stop feeling fear?”
“Oh, hell no. But it changes. It moves outward. A good man will fear how his actions affect others. He’ll fear for those in his care. And especially…” He took a breath and smiled just a little. Enough to melt the panties off my body. “And especially, he’ll fear losing those he cares for.”
My eyes were getting dizzy from searching his face, looking for any clue he was about to burst into laughter at my gullibility. But there was no sign of it at all. Just those wonderful dark chocolate eyes with their gravitational pull.
“And the other difference between a boy and a real man? He knows his own tastes. And he doesn’t give a fuck what the world thinks of them.”
His mouth was no more than six inches from mine. The scent of his wonderful maleness filled my nose, even over the aroma of the cake. The way he was looking deep into me seemed to weaken my joints, and my mouth got all confused about what it was doing.
Mark reached across and brushed a stray tress of hair away from my face, and followed the movement with his eyes. Slowly, he brought them back until it almost felt he was cradling mine in his. Neither of us spoke, but he held my gaze for a moment, his smile fading as his eyes glided down toward my lips.
I felt my mouth hanging slightly open as some kind of tension flicked between us like a static shock. My nipples peaked against my top and I hoped so much that they weren’t showing.
“You know, Lucy...”
Anything further he might have said was torn away by the blaring ring of his cell phone. I turned from the heat of his eyes and squatted before the oven, staring at the cake as if I had a clue what I was looking for.