The Woodworker

by Westlake, Samantha

  I finished the rest of my beer before answering, gestured to the bartender that I needed another. She came over to retrieve my empty glass, but we both noticed that her smile was directed more towards Niall. Maybe the overly smarmy bastard did have a shot with her.

  “She came home this afternoon from meeting some friend of hers,” I answered, once I’d drank the foamy head off my next beer. “Lisa, I think. Same friend that was with her when I first met her at the farmers’ market.”

  “And the friend inspired a bit of catty jealousy?”

  “No, nothing like that. While she was out, she got a call from her insurance agency. It’s been a whole month, and they’re only now just starting to work on processing her claim. It sounded like the typical sort of business bureaucracy bullshit, but it really pissed her off.”

  Niall nodded. “Happens plenty, I’m sure. And?”

  “And she got home, acted like nothing was the matter, but I could tell right away.” I sensed Niall was about to make another smart-ass comment regarding that, so I hastened to clarify. “Not that I’m sensitive to her moods, or anything. I’ve just spent enough time with her and seen her get angry enough to recognize when it’s coming.”

  “Like a sailor looking up at the sky and seeing the oncoming storm.”

  “Sure,” I allowed. “Anyway, I asked her what was wrong, and she started complaining to me, and we were sitting on the sofa together, and she looked like she really needed a distraction, so…”

  “So you slipped her your three inches?”

  “What? No!” I smacked Niall in the arm, enough to knock him off balance on his stool and have to grab the bartop with both hands to keep from falling. “Ass. No, I just kissed her!”

  “Oh, that’s worse,” said a new voice.

  We both looked up to see the bartender, frowning at both of us (well, mostly me) over crossed arms. “You’re living with this woman as friends, and you kissed her?” she repeated, shaking her head. “Big mistake, man.”

  “Did I ask you?” I snapped back, before regaining control of my temper. “Sorry.”

  “She’s right, though,” Niall said, buying himself a few more points from the woman. “Kissing her is even more drastic than just a bit of sex to blow off steam.”

  “What? Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Because you’re looking at it as a perennial player, my man,” Niall answered. “You’re not looking at this from the female side.”

  I groaned at that. “Since you’re such an expert on women.”

  In response, Niall gestured to the bartender. “Why don’t you fill in the missing spaces for my friend…?” he asked, and then paused, clearly hoping for a name.

  “Bethany,” she answered.

  “Pleased to meet ya, Bethany. I’m Niall.”

  “Now that’s a name that belongs in a pub like this,” she said, smiling as she took his offered hand.

  “Can we get back to my issue?” I asked, interrupting their little love-fest. “Why’s it so bad that I kissed her?”

  “First off,” Bethany asked, “did she enjoy it?”

  I thought back to how Eileen had stiffened for a second, and then enthusiastically pushed her tongue back to counter mine, how she’d rolled atop me and straddled me. “Oh yeah.”

  Both Niall and Bethany hissed, drawing air in through their teeth.

  “I’m guessing that’s bad, too?” I groaned.

  They both nodded. “See,” Bethany began, “people get urges. Usually men, but women get them as well. Urges that just need to be scratched. Purely physical, no sort of romantic connection about it.”

  “We’re talking about sex,” Niall added, as if there’d ever been any doubt.

  “So how’s that different from kissing?”

  “It’s different,” Bethany answered, “because kissing isn’t just to satisfy a physical urge. It’s romantic, it’s emotional. If you banged your roommate, you’d be saying that ‘Hey, you’ve got some stress that you need to release, I can help you with that’.”

  “You’re a glorified dildo,” Niall filled in.

  “But when you kiss her,” Bethany went on, “you’re saying that you’re there to support her emotionally, not just physically. And if you don’t really mean that…” In lieu of finishing that thought, she just pulled back her lips and sucked in air through her teeth again. I was fast growing to hate that sound.

  I looked back and forth between the pair of them. “You’re both crazy, you know that?”

  “You haven’t known me long enough to make that call,” Bethany protested.

  “Yeah, and you’ve known me long enough to know that, of the pair of us, I’m almost certainly the saner one!” Niall chimed in, right on her heels.

  “Yes, you both are! I’m not offering Ellie any sort of emotional commitment!” I stopped, took a deep breath. “Look, I’m comforting her – but as a friend! Nothing more!”

  Niall turned theatrically to Bethany across the counter. “Hey, want to be my friend and engage in a friendly bit of making out in the bathroom?” he asked exaggeratedly.

  She batted her eyes across the bartop at him. “Leave me a big tip, and I’d be very inclined to say yes, mister!”

  “Knock it off, both of you.” Strangely enough, listening to their totally wrong assumptions about this afternoon’s exchange between Eileen and myself actually made me feel a bit better. I didn’t believe their explanations, nor their concern that I’d gotten myself into trouble.

  Ellie was reasonable, probably one of the most reasonable women I’d ever met – and that included my own mother. Surely, once we’d both cooled down a bit, she’d understand when I explained what I meant by that kiss.

  It was just meant to comfort her, just between friends. No deeper romantic inclinations intended.

  Although, I mused to myself, I wouldn’t mind if she decided that the kiss wasn’t enough to fully relieve her tension and needed a few more of them – or maybe to even spend a bit of time rolling around between the sheets. I thought back to how that body of hers felt, rolling around on top of me, pressing down against me between my legs. No, I certainly wouldn’t say no to any invitation from her.

  As long as she understood that this wasn’t the start of a relationship, wasn’t the beginning of anything serious.

  She’d asked for that, too, I remembered. She’d been the one who shut down my initial flirting, told me that there wasn’t going to be any sort of relationship developing between us. “Best to not mix business with pleasure,” she’d basically told me – and that was even without throwing in the added complication of her already living with me.

  Mind made up, I dragged my attention back to the present. Niall and Bethany the bartender had fallen into a pretty flirtatious conversation of their own; I suspected that I could topple off my barstool and they wouldn’t even notice.

  I finished off the last of my beer. Bethany didn’t look ready to bring me another, so I stealthily lifted Niall’s mostly full glass from beside his hand, tugged it towards me.

  “Hey!” Three-quarters of his beer later, Niall finally noticed what I’d pulled. “Rick, now you’re so desperate to escape this reality that you’re going to steal another man’s beer? That’s a low blow, even for you!”

  “Cool it with the fake anger,” I sighed. “You were distracting my server from getting me another.”

  Bethany stuck out her tongue at me for referring to her in the third person, but she took my empty glass and brought me a refill.

  “What now, then?” Niall asked, as she turned away. “Going to just hide out here forever, become a barfly so you don’t need to face the awkwardness of coming home to your new wife?”

  “Nah. One more drink, and then I’ll head back.” I glanced down at my watch, sighed. “Maybe two.” If I waited late enough, I could come back and find Ellie already asleep, thus saving me from having to have any kind of uncomfortable discussion until tomorrow morning…

  “You’re stuck, mate,�
�� Niall chuckled. “For once, you can’t run away from a woman, since she’s already at your house!”

  “Don’t make me drink the rest of your beer for you,” I warned him, accepting my fresh draught from Bethany. “Now, can we please change the subject to something else? Anything?”

  Niall sighed, but he’d developed a keen sense over the years of how far he could push me before I was likely to snap. “Fine. You catch the recent Warriors game?”

  “Yeah – missed the first fifteen minutes, but it didn’t matter much in the end. We’re cleaning up this season, aren’t we?”

  Niall nodded. “Not that I’m much more than a fair-weather fan at most times, but you can’t help but root for them this season. I’d be surprised if they don’t go all the way to the finals.”

  Bethany sighed. “Men. Whenever they feel too uncomfortable and don’t want to talk about their real feelings, they always find refuge in sports.”

  “It doesn’t have to be sports,” I said, flashing my most annoying grin at her. “Hey Niall, remember last time that you had to come pick me up from some stranger’s apartment? Did I ever tell you about how that night went? See, I turned out that she was a yoga instructor at her college, and she really wanted to try out certain positions without the constraints of restrictive clothing…”

  “Oh, what’s that?” our bartender interrupted. “I think I hear Hank calling for a refill, down at the other end of the bar. If you’ll excuse me…”

  Niall looked a little sad to see her go, but I reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “I think your over-exaggerated flirting attempts might have paid off this time, buddy. A dollar says that she’ll have her phone number on the receipt she brings you.”

  “Five dollars, and you’ve got a bet.”

  “Done – and an extra three bucks says that she doodles a little heart on there somewhere.”

  He shook my hand on it, and we settled back to talking about nothing, enjoying our beers. I had my plan for how I’d handle Eileen when I got home, and I already felt a little stupid for running out on her like that. Eileen wasn’t like the other girls I picked up in bars. She’d understand.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rick

  * * *

  As I’d half expected, one more drink turned into two, and chatting at the bar turned into a couple games of billiards, and next thing I knew, I was carefully sliding my key into the lock on my front door just after midnight.

  The lights were still on, and I found Eileen curled up on the living room sofa, almost exactly where I’d left her. A wine glass and an empty dinner plate sat on the coffee table in front of her, and her feet were tangled up in a fleece blanket.

  Seeing her asleep made a smile grow on my face. When Eileen was awake, she always seemed to have an aura of command and competence around her, an invisible conviction that she always had everything under control. It had made her intimidating, at first, but it also made her easy to trust, easy for me to talk to; I never had to fear that she wouldn’t immediately grasp my problem.

  Asleep, however, she looked softer and more sensitive, more vulnerable. Looking down at her now, legs tucked half beneath her on the sofa, I could see her inner fragility, even though she did such a good job of hiding that when awake. Her mouth hung slightly open as she slowly and steadily breathed in sleep, and I could see the smallest little hint of her white teeth between those full lips. She twitched a little, as if she felt my eyes upon her.

  Smiling, I bent over and picked up the dishes. Being careful to not bang them against anything that might make too much noise, I carried them into the kitchen, slipped them into the dishwasher among their companions. Returning to the living room, I reached down and carefully untangled the fleece blanket from around her feet. She made a soft little sound as I tugged it free.

  “Don’t worry, I’m giving it back,” I murmured to her. Spreading out the blanket, I draped it over her, slipping it around her and tucking her in. Since she was almost as tall as I am, she couldn’t quite stretch out fully on the sofa, but she’d at least be more comfortable this way. I grabbed a pillow and slipped it beneath her head.

  I’d talk to her tomorrow about the impulsive kiss. Looking down at her now, asleep and relaxed, I didn’t feel the slightest bit worried about that conversation. Eileen would understand.

  I climbed upstairs to my own bedroom, kicked off my shoes and socks and crawled beneath the covers of my bed without bothering to undress any further. The beers were catching up to me, tugging at my eyelids. I wasn’t as young as I’d once been, couldn’t handle a night out on the town quite so well. Someday, I’d have to call it quits.

  Hopefully not for a few more years, though, I added. Tonight hadn’t been too crazy; I’d flirted lightly with a couple young women who stopped in DeVere’s a little later, but didn’t feel any pressure to pursue more than a bit of conversation. When I looked at them, I hadn’t felt any of the usual sexual hunger. Must be an off night.

  My eyes closed as soon as my head hit my pillow, and I was dead to the world less than a minute later.

  The next thing I knew, bright light was hitting my face, strong even through my closed eyelids. I groaned, but didn’t move. The best thing about working for myself, I considered for the millionth time, is the fact that I don’t have to wake up on anyone else’s schedule.

  Something moved in front of the sunlight, blocking it and casting a shadow on my face. It moved back a minute later, and I groaned again at the fresh rays of sunshine. Was there a branch outside my window, blowing back and forth to transiently block the morning rays?

  “Good morning.”

  My eyes shot open at the female voice. I felt the sting of a mild hangover behind my eyes, but I hadn’t brought anyone home last night… I had to blink a couple times to resolve the fuzziness, but Eileen’s face swam into view, smiling down at me.

  “Hi,” I said, feeling my lips tug into an answering smile. She looked like she’d been awake for at least an hour already, confident and competent and somehow all the more attractive for it. I’d kissed her last night, I remembered, and the thought didn’t bother me at all.

  In fact, if I lifted my arm and slipped it around her neck, I could tug her down into the soft sheets alongside me, see if that kiss had been a one-time fluke or if she always tasted so sweet-

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” she said, straightening up. “I’ve got coffee for you, but you have to look at what I’ve created for your business before I’ll give it to you.”

  Business? Right, of course. Eileen wasn’t a moonstruck young woman who’d come foolishly chasing after me, in love from a single kiss. I’d promised to put that kiss behind us as a momentary act of comforting, nothing more. Clearly, she’d done the same.

  “I think I may need the coffee first, if you want me to keep my eyes open,” I said, tugging the sheets down and hauling myself into a half-sitting position. “What time is it? How long have you been up?”

  “A little after eight, and an hour and a half,” she answered.

  I had to think for a second to unpack those two measurements. “You’ve been awake since six-thirty? Doing what?”

  She straightened up a little, and I noticed that she wore leggings and a sports bra beneath a loose tank top. “Went for a run, did the dishes from last night,” she replied. “You know, getting a good start on my day. Being productive instead of wasting it all in bed.”

  I barely heard the last couple sentences, distracted by the sight of Eileen in leggings. Even more than her usual jeans, they really showed off her fit legs, and the loose top gave me tantalizing glimpses of her upper body every time she shifted position. Even more than before, I wanted to pull her into my bed.

  You’re being ridiculous, I told myself. This is just a bit of leftover sexual hunger because you didn’t take anyone home last night. Eileen could be any other woman in the world, and you’d still be thinking with your dick instead of with your head.

  Somehow, this didn’t sound quite true,
even inside my head. Before I could dig in deeper, however, Eileen gave me a push.

  “Scoot over,” she commanded.

  Confused, I shifted towards the middle of the bed. She dropped down beside me, on top of the covers, and I realized that she held her laptop in her hands. “What’s this?” I asked, still vaguely hopeful that she was on the verge of shimmying out of those tight clothes.

  “It’ s what I want to show you – I’ve been working on it for the last week or so,” she said, pushing the laptop towards me and turning it so I could view the screen.

  I frowned, reaching up to rub some of the crust from my eyes. “What is it?”

  “The Eiffel Tower. What does it look like?”

  It was too early to deal with her sarcasm, but I didn’t respond, staring down at the screen. It looked like a professional sales website, a dark brown, nearly black background serving to better draw the eye to photographs of ornately carved wooden bowls, vases, and sculptures. Very well done, elegantly designed – but I recognized those artworks.

  “These are my pieces,” I said slowly.

  She nodded, making that damnable ponytail bounce behind her head. “This is your website.”

  My eyes rose to the logo and name at the top of the page, centered above a menu. “The Woodworker by Rick Morgan?”

  “Not all in one go,” she said. “The Woodworker, by Rick Morgan. It’s your business website!”

  I blinked, didn’t know what to say. Eileen had created a business website for me? I vaguely recalled some general discussion of the possibility of a website, but I didn’t realize that she’d even started on building one. Hell, I didn’t even know what went into the creation of a website – but I did have to admit that this looked far more professional and polished than I’d expect of her – or of anyone.

  “Does it work?” I asked.

  In response, her hand reached down, slipped around mine, guided my finger to the trackpad of the laptop. I tried to ignore the softness of her warm skin on mine. “Go ahead and try it.”

  I clicked through the menus, explored the website. I was astounded at what Eileen had created, all the different layers to the site. When I clicked on different tabs, I could filter the images by category or by price. Clicking on the images brought up their description, even a link to purchase them!