Eye of the Tiger

by Melanie Greene

  Evan could just stay clear of her coaxial cable, if he knew what was good for him.

  If he knew what was good for him, he'd never have spilled this oil-slick of a rumor about them living together. She should flat-out deny it. Let him deal with the clean up while she found a clean beach to relax on, away from the journalistic scrutiny of their avid parents.

  Except Elaine would never let it go. And maybe Evan had a mitigating plan, not that she could envision one. Or maybe Evan genuinely wanted to live with her, and this was his dumbass way of bringing it up. Maybe this was an entirely toxic situation.

  "Koray, listen." Mom reached over and snagged Evan's dad as he passed. As soon as he saw Mom, he turned and waved down Marisa, who started their way.

  Koray said, "You found her, good. Did you tell her my idea?"

  "Not yet. I wanted to ask, how long are you and Marisa in Houston?" Nat was impressed her mom could be so articulate with her mouth stretched in such a wide smile.

  "We go home Tuesday."

  "So this won't eat up all your time? Because I can arrange it for later." Mom glanced at her. "Help Evan arrange it, I mean."

  The parents were too buzzed. She had a bad feeling about it. "Help him with what?"

  "We thought tomorrow, so Evan has time to settle in before work on Monday. You don't have clients over the holiday weekend, do you?"

  She shook her head. "Tomorrow for what, precisely?"

  Her mom beamed. "Moving, of course."

  They were in too tight a cluster for him to get a clear read on Nat's expression. He rounded a column and eyed her from the side. Game face. Polite but not open. The parents were jabbering, gesticulating. If it weren't for unchecked escapees from Natalie's previously-tamed low bun, he would have figured they were enjoying cute grandkid stories or planning another joint vacation. But the hair was a giveaway.

  He texted. Asked her to head his way if she wanted to yell at him before he joined the group. She glanced at her phone, shook off the suggestion, and sent a patently false grin in his general direction before turning back to listen to his dad.

  Right, then. Into the fray. He hoped it meant she was going with his story for now. He'd scrambled together some schemes to put off moving and manage parental pressure after his went home. And he wouldn't screw up this time. He slipped into the group between his mom and Natalie. "The fireworks should start soon."

  Her quick, arch look let him know his attempt to steer the conversation was rudderless. "Mom and your parents have been talking," she said.

  "Listen, Evan, we decided instead of the beach tomorrow, we'll stay in town and get the move done." Mom's voice was almost as chipper as her 'gather the kids for Christmas morning' cheer.

  "I--that's really generous of you, but this is your holiday. I don't want you to waste it."

  "It's not a waste. We've been to the beach before. We've never seen you settle in with a woman before."

  "Or a man. We don't judge."

  "Dad."

  "Just saying."

  "Right. Well, thanks."

  "Tell Chloe that if you get a chance."

  "Dad, for the last time, Chloe's not gay. She just isn't into permanent relationships. If you don't want to judge, don't judge her for that."

  "She just hasn't met the right man yet." Mom patted at Dad's arm, soothing. "Like Evan has."

  "Natalie's not a man." He shook his head. "I mean, she's not the right woman."

  "Oh," said Elaine, quiet.

  He shut his eyes, then opened them and turned to Natalie. So much for him not screwing things up more. Her expression was practically giggling at him, it was so full of silent glee. He was out of ideas. He shrugged. "Sorry."

  "No worries."

  He clutched at straw. "I'm too rude. You shouldn't let me move in."

  Nat's lips compressed. She looked like she'd collapse in mirth if she opened her mouth.

  Her mom jumped in. "I know that's not how you meant it, Evan. You two are still getting to know each other. This isn't one of those permanent relationships your sister despises, not yet. Not yet." Elaine nodded along with each of her last two words.

  "That's," he searched for the right word, "understanding of you."

  "What my son means to say is that he takes his relationship with your daughter seriously. Despite his big mouth and inappropriate punch lines."

  Tell it like you see it, Dad.

  Elaine nodded more. "They'll get to know each other faster this way. And it's such a relief to me to know Natalie won't still be rattling all alone through that house. I've never been entirely comfortable with that. So much better to have a man around."

  Nat leaned his way. "I thought about getting a guard dog, but she said it wouldn't put her mind at ease."

  "You can get a dog if you want a dog, Natalie. Now that Evan is there to help with cleanup and walking it, that's not a bad idea."

  He pulled a considering frown. "I was thinking a schnauzer. We're still in negotiations."

  "I'm in favor of a Saint Bernard, but he's worried about the heat."

  "Hey, it's a valid concern. I know it would look amazing sitting in your living room, but those puppies are bred for snow and ice and mountains and other things we just aren't finding in Houston."

  "But their coloring is perfect." She let a whine into her voice that was going to break his composure.

  "I never said it wasn't."

  "And you nixed the King Charles spaniels."

  He pretended to be aghast. "Way too yippy."

  "I told you, you're thinking of Pomeranians."

  "No, you're thinking of Poms. Every time I turn around, you're thinking of Poms. I'm thinking of Chihuahuas."

  "Oh, look," interrupted Mom, dry and no-nonsense. "The fireworks."

  Chapter Sixteen

  To his credit, not that she was offering ready credit to him just now, Evan texted a dozen long explanations which she read after dropping Mom home. He'd frozen and blurted something crazy to stop Marisa and Koray's wild speculations, and they'd run with it, and he was terrible at talking his way out of it, as she'd seen. Oh, yes, she'd seen. What a flounder.

  A flounder she was apparently going to just let move in to her house.

  He texted another limerick, too:

  The curve of your hip makes me sigh

  As do your calf and your thigh

  But the part I like more

  If you're keeping score

  Is the glinting green light of your eye

  Hokey, but it softened her up. She let him come over late, after his parents had gone to bed. They were staying at his place, and he reassured her that they'd continue to stay at his place.

  "So it's just you moving in, not the entire Lee clan?"

  "You've got more room than me, but even this house isn't spacious enough to fit my clan."

  "Well. Look how relieved I am. I'm only doubling the size of my household."

  He reached her way, but failed to connect. "This is all--"

  "Or tripling, I guess, if the dog counts."

  Looking up from where he'd buried his face in his hands, he said, "Help me out here, Natalie. I know hide behind humor. I'd know it after today even if I didn't know it before. But I can't tell if you're teasing me now because you're furious, or horrified, or what. Because I know it's all my fault, and you have every right to be angry."

  "Pretty sure I told you at least a couple of times I don't need your permission to feel whatever I'm feeling."

  He sank his head again. She took pity on the vulnerable back of his neck, and edged closer.

  "Evan, look." She nudged her knee to his. "First of all, I'm the one who kissed you in that hallway."

  "Sure, but--"

  "And when we were busted, I left you to deal with your parents."

  His knee tapped hers. "I'm a little perturbed about that."

  "Yes, well. You make jokes. I hide. You accept my foibles and I'll accept yours. Since apparently we live together now, it's the only way to survive
the experience."

  Evan slouched against the back of the sofa. His shirt rode up, revealing a strip of abs and the waistband of his boxers. It did a lot to improve her mood.

  "Third of all--"

  "Wait, was there a second of all?"

  "Yes, me running away," she said. "Keep up."

  "Sorry, my head is spinning. Like a Catherine wheel."

  "What's a Catherine wheel?"

  "One of those spinning fireworks things. Think giant pinwheel with sparklers on it. I'm trying to stay thematic here."

  "This may be the weirdest fight I've ever had."

  Evan sat up, fast, peering at her. "Are we fighting? I get it, if we are, I get you're mad. Is this a fight?"

  If she had popcorn, she'd toss it at him. If she had popcorn and he wasn't sitting on her new velvet couch. "No, it's not a fight. I promise to be really obvious about it when we fight. This is a discussion."

  When he flopped back, he pulled her with him. She notched herself under his arm, propped her feet on the ottoman. He brushed back her hair. "You have patriotic socks."

  She'd changed from her party clothes to loose cotton shorts and a babydoll tee, and, yes, American flag fuzzy socks. "If you had patriotic socks, wouldn't you wear them on the Fourth of July?"

  He toed off his loafers--other than the missing tie, he hadn't changed--and crossed his own feet next to hers. Just under the cuffs of his trousers, she saw a band of red and white stripes against the navy background, and there were big gold stars on his toes.

  What else could she do but bite his shoulder? "Clearly we are meant to be."

  "Please don't Instagram this. My dad would find it."

  "I don't even have an Instagram account, Evan."

  "So you say. Which reminds me, be careful to not mention our birthday to our parents."

  "Right. Because I'm the one in the business of blurting at our parents."

  "Busted. Again. So, listen." He sounded suddenly cautious. "Do you think we can make this work for a little bit?"

  "Work how, exactly?" She was leery of looking up at him, of trying to gauge his thoughts from his expressions. Life had spun so wildly out of control in the past few hours. She needed concrete words, not speculation.

  "Okay, when we started this we agreed on a few big things. No getting serious, no falling in love."

  "No letting our parents know."

  He kissed the top of her head. "Well, we're making some adjustments to the original setup."

  She nodded. She'd figured that much out hours ago.

  "My idea is that we go forward with the move, with a plan in place."

  "What kind of plan?"

  Evan nudged his feet under hers, so they were tangled together, a jumble of stars and stripes. "If you think about it, this is no biggie. I mean, we were already spending a few nights a week together. And it was almost harder to evade my parents and Elaine than it will be for them to think we're super serious. So we continue with this awesome friendly sex set up, but in their eyes we are doing exactly what they hoped. This way, they don't barge in with soup for one, or email leading questions, or bemoan our misery and loneliness."

  Her flounder was flopping around on shore, gills gasping. "You're spinning this as a positive development?"

  His arm tightened across her shoulders. "No, even I don't think I can get away with that. I'm just making lemonade. Trying to talk you into believing this is not all bad. I know we have to deal with them eventually, but since we're grooving on the physical relationship right now--at least I am--we can continue to have our fun while they think they've gotten their way. And down the road a ways, when the pressure's off, we'll come up with a breakup story and I'll move out and they can accept that we tried but it was a no-go in the long run. Boom, you and I are still single, and next time our parents will think twice before matchmaking."

  The absurd thing was, he made some sense. However. "If this was your plan, we could have accomplished the same thing without hauling that aluminum sculpture from your place to mine."

  He sighed. "It really wasn't preconceived. I would have run it past you first. And we don't have to move the sculpture. I don't have to give up my place. It's better if I don't, actually, so I have somewhere to go in a couple of months."

  "It takes eight weeks for you to find something to fight with me about?"

  "I thought we were fighting now."

  "No, now we're having a conversation. Because we are adults." She dialed back the sarcasm. "Okay, say I go along with this plan. Same rules apply, right? We keep it casual, we end it whenever one of us wants, we don't start seeing other people without ending it first."

  "Right."

  She tucked her legs under herself and faced him. "Have you ever lived with anybody before? I know Koray said you didn't but maybe he doesn't know everything about you."

  He huffed. "I sure as hell hope he doesn't. But that much he does know. I mean, I've shared apartments with people before, of course. Not anyone I was in a relationship with. Have you?"

  Not likely. She never minded sharing a bed on occasion, but she had routines, and was frankly a little shy about anyone observing them. At least, in the past she had been. A couple of times already, Evan had stayed the night and Natalie had gone ahead with the washing and scrubbing and brushing and lotioning that kept her on top of her game. And when she'd slept at his place, she'd been surprised at how easily she'd drifted off without the primping. Probably the vigorous sex had done its part to maintain her skin's healthy glow.

  "I'll tell you this much. No way am I sharing closet space with you. You can store your nine hundred ties in the second bedroom."

  The wrinkles between his brow eased. "I convinced you?"

  "Conned me, more like."

  His kiss was hot and swift and full of laughter. She felt like ripping his clothes off. It must have to do with the lifting of tension and uncertainty. Communication as aphrodisiac.

  "Speaking of stuff. I meant to give it to you earlier, to celebrate your contract on the Takeda's house." Evan reached into his pocket.

  "That bulge there wasn't just you being happy to see me?"

  "You've been eyeing my bulges?"

  "Always." She took the tiny box from him and opened it. Grinned. It was a pink and white wood house, small enough to nestle in her palm. "Cute."

  He adjusted the bulge still in his pants. "There's a hobby store near my gym. I remembered when my niece had a dollhouse for her dollhouse. Thought I might find something like this there."

  "So cute." She wasn't talking about the toy anymore, and his reddening cheekbones suggested he knew it. Poor, sweet, embarrassed Evan. Nat set about helping him reassert his manliness. She was straddling him with his hands playing on her spine when she drew back and asked, "You probably have to head back to your place, right?"

  His mouth lifted in a half-smile. "Well. Technically."

  "Before your mom and dad catch you." She could almost hide her smile, but not her taunting tone.

  "Are you suggesting I'm missing my curfew?"

  "I don't know. Am I?"

  His hands curved along her ribs, his thumbs nudging the sides of her breasts. "If I am, it's the last chance I have to do so. Since tomorrow night I won't be sharing a roof with my parents."

  When she arched her back, her belly pressed into his hardening erection. He dropped his gaze from her face to the nipples straining against the stretch of her shirt. He wet his lips. She traced the moisture with her forefinger. "Seems like it would be naughty of you to miss curfew."

  He trapped her finger between his teeth. Sucked. Bucked his cock up against her. "If I'm going to get into trouble, maybe you should make it worth my while."

  She yanked the shirt over her head. Shoved her breasts in his face while she set to work on his buttons. "Maybe you should just go fast so you get home on time."

  He didn't answer. Not verbally. As his mouth and hands roamed, he lifted so she could yank down his trousers and boxers. He pulled away and reached
for his wallet, extracted a condom. Stood, and stripped, and tugged off her shorts before sinking to the floor, back braced against the sofa. He guided her down. Her breasts bounced and slid and pressed against his chest as they moved together. Fast. Faster. He grunted and she saw he would come, and she beat a fist against his shoulder, in time with her gasps, while his grip dug into her hips and she reached down to counterpoint his rhythm on her clit. Her knees tightened against his sides, and he lost his steady thrust as he came, but she kept her fingers where she needed them and her orgasm hit hard. She sank back, half-caught up by the ottoman, her lower back nestled on his legs.

  She giggled.

  "Hmm?" He was stroking up her abdomen, but not tickling her.

  She wriggled her toes against the planes of his ass. "We're still wearing our socks."

  "Independence." His laugh bounced her in his lap. He was still inside her, and the aftershock made her hum. "It's an all-day celebration."

  "So," he said, not even pretending to be in a hurry to get home. "Operation: pull wool."

  "That's a terrible name."

  "Operation: liars, liars, pants on fires."

  "Glad we're not wearing pants at the moment," she said. "I don't think any more heat in that region is wise."

  Her hand drifted up his thigh. His ass was unquestionably warm, despite their nudity. He caught her fingers, brought their hands to rest on his stomach as he shifted them up to lounge on the sofa. Her warmth against his side and the cool drift of the AC left him mellow. Or maybe that was because of the sex.

  "Operation: Saint Bernard."

  Natalie's olive eyes were dancing when she twisted to look up at him. She was a visual feast of curves and shadows and peaks, but her eyes were the beacon. "Op: Pom."

  Her mouth was salt and sweet and warm. He drew his away, smiling. "Op: Pom it is. What are our mission parameters? We'll keep this going for at least a couple of months, right?"

  "Barring you developing a snoring habit, yes."