by Scott, D. D.
Jules bit her bottom lip, waiting to see if he’d accept her offer.
“Fair enough.”
Cody got a bottle of cabernet out of the fabulous wine refrigerator built into one of the cabinets of the work station. He screwed out the cork and poured them each a glass. “Start talking.”
Two simple words, Jules thought, but a way beyond simple task. Years of heartbreak twisted her stomach into hot pretzel knots, attempting to block her resolve to acknowledge her past. Too bad the tension tying-up her tummy couldn’t resolve itself like the pop of relief given a bottle of wine once its cork was relieved of its purpose.
But she wanted to confide in Cody. And her Buddhist belief system thrived on always going for the gusto of living her personal truth. So she had to spill it to Cody, and perhaps at least attempt to make her relationship with Jacques seem somewhat palatable.
She took a seat at the table, needing the extra stability offered by the sweet teak.
“The night my parents were killed, I grew-up way beyond my five years and forever looked at life with a different lens.”
Cody took off his apron and sat beside her, taking her trembling hands between his own. His silence, highlighted by volumes of genuine concern in his bluer than Hope Diamond eyes, encouraged her to let go of the pain she’d, until now, tucked away from the world.
“Even though what Jacques did to me was rough, I refused to let him devastate me.” She relaxed her hands against Cody’s palms, unaware ‘til then how tight her fingers had been flexed.
“Facing my parents’ deaths, I’ve been to the bottom of life — unwillingly. I’d never allow someone to take me there willingly.”
“I can’t imagine the pain of losing a parent, let alone both at the same time.”
Cody caressed her hands, massaging her tension to more manageable levels.
“How did you recover?”
“Baby steps. Bunches of baby steps,” she said, feeling her spirit ease talking through her carefully preserved, bottled-up emotions.
“Looking back, I think I took the most turbulent year of my life and built an air-tight wall around myself, deciding I wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to hurt me again.”
“Kind of a lonely approach, wasn’t it?”
Cody pressed her to re-examine her coping mechanism. But he wasn’t pushing with a judgmental attitude, rather a sincere effort seeking understanding. A genuine request she’d never thought she’d entertain beyond Aunt Tulip’s couch, but a request she truly wanted to fulfill.
“I don’t think so. It’s served me well. I’ve done great on my own. I don’t need anyone that close to me.”
Jules swallowed a Maraschino cherry-sized lump in her throat. Even after thirty years convincing herself of the merits of that philosophy, she still couldn’t buy into the notion without skepticism.
“I made a mistake and let Jacques too close personally and professionally. He was handsome, talented and had a promising career. I thought he was also dedicated to me, but his cover was blown. Literally.” She shivered recalling the lurid memory of the afternoon her heart again crumbled.
“I’d stopped at his restaurant to borrow a pan for a new recipe, only to find him and one of his sous chefs with their mouths full. And I’m not talking full of food.”
“Oh. That’s bad. I’m sorry.” Cody tucked his hand under her lowered chin, tilting it back up so their eyes explored her feelings together.
“No. Don’t be sorry. I’m not. I learned from those tears. I should never have let him so far into my life. I under-estimated what he’d do to get what he wants,” she said, feeling a sense of freedom from sharing with Cody while at the same time a bit wary of letting him into her inner most circle of confidants.
She couldn’t afford to let her guard down again. But to live life, she had to take risks, right? Calculated risks perhaps. But risks all the same.
“Listen to me, JuJu Bee,” Cody said, a sense of urgency punctuating his words. “You aren’t responsible for what Jacques did. And you can’t shut yourself off from future happiness because of your less-than-perfect past.”
“When did you get so smart?”
Jules laughed.
“Have you been talking to Aunt Tulip?”
“Not about you.”
Cody laughed with her, an unfettered release she’d never heard from him. A joy-filled moment she was honored to share with the cowboy who was — with each day passing — starting to own her heart.
“That’s comforting — I think,” she said, hesitant to continue her inquiry.
“But just so you know, I haven’t shut myself off. I found you, and have let you sort of bust my badass, bakery bitch cover on several occasions.”
“That you have. I stand corrected.”
Cody hugged her to his solid chest, the precious woods and warm musk of his cologne enveloping her senses, making parts of her come alive she’d set on a backburner.
“Don’t ever stop sharing with me. I want to know everything that makes you tick,” he whispered in her ear.
“You might regret that.”
“Try me.”
He rested his chin on the top of her head.
She inhaled with a deep satisfaction, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath the side of her face touching his warm skin.
Things were good between them. And even after letting him see a glimpse of who she is behind her sweet, sassy treats, she wasn’t as afraid as she’d thought she’d be.
Their relationship meant more to her than she realized. Something she hadn’t figured out ‘til now.
She wrapped her arms around his broad, muscular shoulders, hoping that relying on him wasn’t another major mistake.
He kissed her forehead then left her to her ruminations.
Stopping the timer before it went off, he put on a red-checkered mitt then grabbed a pizza paddle from a hook on the brick wall next to the oven.
Once he’d opened the oven’s huge iron door, a rich comforting aroma filled the space between them.
With a bit more of his Sicilian magic making its way to her nose, Jules’ taste buds did a happy dance.
“Cody, that looks and smells delicious.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
He slid the pizza off the paddle and onto the countertop, steam and dreamy herbal combinations rising from its colorful surface.
“Want to do the honors and add the prosciutto and arugula? I’ll finish it off with some fresh-ground pepper.”
“I’m telling you, Sweet Man, you keep cooking for me and you’ll make me rethink the being alone thing.”
She may not be ready for a full-blown, commitment-based relationship but she could get used to coming home to this smorgasbord king every night.
Cody Weiss wasn’t just the King of the Grill and Barbecue Pit. He was a damn fine, Italian savory chef too.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He twisted the stainless steel of his pepper mill, topping off his creation with the perfect zest.
“If you’ve been alone all this time, though, then you must have turned down tons of guys.”
Jules felt a burning flush fill her cheeks, and it wasn’t from the oven-fired pizza.
Cody set down the pepper mill and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
He took a substantial swig from his wine glass.
Great. Now he’d seen her stupefied stew. That lost-in-space look Aunt Tulip said she got only when she was deeply embarrassed and fighting hard to hide it.
She sucked up her pride, swallowed a hefty gulp from her own wine glass then decided to rely on Tulip’s twisted analysis to sum up her pathetic social life.
“Tons of guys is an overestimate. But there’ve been a few. I think, in general, I must intimidate men.”
Cody choked on his cabernet.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Wrong pipe.” He cleared his throat, wiped the corners of his mouth with h
is apron, and set down his glass. “Go on. I gotta hear this. I’m all ears.”
“To be honest, I don’t get asked out that much. Jacques used to tell me that I scared men because I didn’t act like I ever needed them. What do you think?”
“I think there’s no chance in hell I’m gonna come out well on this question.”
“You started the topic,” she said.
Jules followed Cody and his pizza to the table. There was no way he was getting away without an answer.
“You’re right. I did. And you deserve an answer.”
He set the pizza between the seat at the head of the table and the place setting to its immediate right then pulled out the accompanying chair and motioned for her to sit.
“But in the interest of maintaining your ego and my physical health, I’m trying to find the best words. So humor me and let me find ‘em.”
“It’s that bad? No wonder I don’t date much.” Jules sat, put her napkin across her lap and waited for Cody to join her, wishing he’d hurry because her taste buds were sick of dancing and ready to dive in.
Her apprehension about his analysis didn’t affect her appetite in a heart-healthy way. She embraced food when her emotional state was on the line. And by the looks of his hesitation tactics, her emotional state was staring down a ‘biggest loser’-style disaster. She’d be well-served by eating up, so he’d best get a move on.
Cody served her a piping hot slice of heaven, took the wine out of the chilled carafe he’d placed between them and refilled their glasses.
“We need more to drink before you tell me what you’re thinking?” She picked up her fork and positioned it above her pizza.
Cody gently removed the utensil from her hand. “Jonathan Swift said our fingers were made before forks.”
Jules couldn’t help smile as she picked up her pizza, gathered the mozzarella oozing over the sides and secured the gooey strings to the top of the slice. “Well, you’re certainly not too swift with your answer to my dating dilemma.”
“Okay. Since you’re forcing me to speak, you can come across as — what shall I say — extremely independent and highly career-driven.”
He took a large bite of pizza.
Certain he was hoping to escape further explanation since his mouth was full, Jules didn’t waste time digging deeper. “I thought men wanted women who were able to take care of themselves and who helped bring home the bacon.”
“Bringing home the bacon is one thing, JuJu Bee. Being able to wrestle your own pig for the prize is quite another.” He looked up to the tree tops, as if considering the philosophical impact of the message he’d delivered.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She devoured her pizza while digesting his words.
“I’m not sure I know. Give me a minute.” He laughed then took another hearty gulp of wine. “Let me just say first, that I find it quite attractive that you’re wound up tighter than a biscotti stick. But some men, not me, could be intimidated by that.”
“You make no sense.”
She tossed her crust onto her plate and helped herself to another slice.
“Well, duh — ,” he said, wiping tomato sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Men don’t know anything, right?”
“Well done, Sweet Man, but I’m not letting you off the hook that easy.” Jules stopped inhaling her pizza long enough to mull over what he’d said. “I’m not always that wound up. I like to have fun.”
“Yeah, right,” he said without the slightest hesitation. “When was the last time you did something for fun and not because it was on your planner? Better yet — name it.”
His challenge bothered her more than she cared to consider but she had the perfect answer. She waited ‘til his cocky grin was firmly in place so she could wipe it off with gusto.
“Well — for starters, I bought a Harley.”
Cody’s silly smile was gone, replaced by a gaping open-mouthed ‘huh?’.
Check-mate.
“That’s right, genius. Thought you had me, didn’t ya?”
Not as if she knew what she was going to do with the damn thing. She knew nothing about motorcycles except that she’d always wanted to learn to ride.
“You — a biker babe? This I gotta see,” Cody said, the grin back at home on his handsome-as-all-hell face. “Do you even know how to ride?”
“Nope. Not yet. But I’ll learn.”
“That you will. And I’m going to teach you.”
He sat back away from the table, looking at her as if she’d (a) really impressed him, or (b) was even crazier than he’d suspected.
(B) was fine with her. She delighted in her zany ways, was boosted by her career-driven gusto and had a new kind of hog to wrestle for a great pay-off.
“So I don’t need to sign up for an ABATE class?” She might really make a hit tossing in some biker chick lingo.
“I’ll manage your riding lessons,” he said and winked.
Her stomach tightened. He’d made more than her taste buds do a happy dance.
“What a guy,” she said, caught off guard by how much she’d like to ride him — oh, yiyiyi, she meant with him — ride with him. Yeah. That was it. Must be the wine.
Ooo — but how would it feel to have her legs wrapped around him?
She shivered, sure the early fall breeze rustling the leaves had reached her skin. More sure the tremors originated from Cody’s intense, desire-filled eyes, now fixated on her and her alone.
She wasn’t attracted to him like that, right?
Yeah, he was hot, even with his cowboy hat always covering up way too much of his handsome, rugged, field-tanned face. But she’d never risk losing their friendship or her heart by going for more.
“So you expect me to believe you’d part with your hat to ride a bike with me?”
She’d been wanting to ask about his Stetson dependency, deciding since they were ‘bonding’, now was the time.
“Who said anything about not having my head covered?” Cody fidgeted in his chair, and like he did every time he was uncomfortable, tugged the brim of his Stetson lower over his forehead. “There are skullcaps for that sort of occasion.”
“Cody Weiss. I want to get to know you without that hat.”
Jules leaned across the table, knowing he couldn’t help but get a great shot of her cleavage thanks to the scooped neck of her body-hugging baby T.
Cody mimicked her efforts and moved in toward her. Searching her eyes, as if asking for permission, for what, she had no idea, he reached out his hand and pointed to her chest.
“Ummm — you have prosciutto stuck between your breasts.”
“I what?!”
Not sure the heat in her cheeks was from embarrassment at food being attracted to her chest or from the fact that Cody couldn’t take his eyes off the damage, she looked at her top and stammered, “Well — get it off.”
“Are you kidding? You slapped the shit out of the last guy who tried that.”
Cody backed away from her, throwing his hands up in the air in complete surrender.
“That’s because he didn’t ask,” Jules said, then quickly added so he wouldn’t get the wrong impression, “not that I’d have granted him permission.”
“So let me get this straight. You’re telling me I can remove the bacon from your cleavage?”
Cody leaned back in toward her, his face and hands so close to her chest she could feel his body heat.
“If you’d like to,” she whispered, almost as surprised by her invitation as he seemed to be. “On one condition.”
“Name it,” he said, his voice that sexy gravel-filled tone that drove her crazy and him damn near breathless.
“Take off your hat.” She challenged him, staring hard at his Stetson, willing it to vacate its position.
Once he’d heard her request, his body shuddered under her fingertips.
He took a steady, measured breath, as if weighing the advantages and disadvantages of granting her wish versus fulfilling
what she hoped was his most raw of desires.
Never losing the connection between their eyes, he nodded his head, acquiescing to her request.
As his hand brushed her nipple, she lifted the black felt hat from his head. The thrill of his touch ricocheted from her chest to the pit of her stomach, awakening a carnal urge she’d ignored way too long.
She ran her hand over his unruly curls of his jet black hair, admiring the way a few of the strands sparkled like dark coal being lit by the tiny light on a miner’s helmet. She then touched the tips of his slightly larger- than-average ears. Caressing his earlobes with her fingertips, she felt the heat burning inside them with the same intensity firing up his magnificent cheekbones.
“For what it’s worth, I think your ears are terrific,” she whispered into the one closest to her lips.
“Thanks, JuJu Bee,” he whispered back, “but you don’t have to say that. Thanks to these oversized puppies, I’m a big Dumbo fan.”
Jules couldn’t help but giggle.
“If anyone’s a circus freak in this relationship, it’s me. I’m the crazy cupcake lady who can’t satisfy a man, remember?”
As soon as she’d said it, she wished she hadn’t. And from where the hell the kind of freedom came permitting her to divulge her worst nightmare left her dumbfounded.
“Who told you that?!” Cody said, then looked away from her and shook his head. “No, let me guess. Who else would be such an arrogant asshole?”
Jules hung her head, not knowing what to say, well aware she’d said way too much already.
Cody rubbed her shoulders, pressing firmly into the knots settled there. “I don’t believe him. And what’s to say, even if your moments with him weren’t Aunt Tulip textbook examples that he wasn’t to blame?”
“You could be right, I suppose. But I haven’t had the nerve to try since,” Jules said, her voice soft and weak, hushed by the realization she’d exposed one of her deepest sources of anxiety.
Before she knew what was happening and could save him the disappointment, she felt Cody’s lips softly meet hers. She closed her eyes, drinking in the feel of his skin against hers, tasting the tomato sauce left behind.
His tender efforts fed her hidden desires. With each encouraging nibble, he loosened her trepidation, freeing her body along with her soul. He didn’t increase his intensity, instead he kept her smothered in consistently wonderful, fairytale brushes of promise and bridled passion. With each butterfly kiss, he eased her resistance, boosted her confidence and deepened her longing.