Clean Breaks

by Ruby Lang

  When he didn’t say anything, she went on. “We’re both . . . vulnerable right now.”

  The way she said that word, vulnerable, with a grumble in her voice as if it irritated her to apply the word to herself, made him almost laugh, even as his heart did a painful flip-flop.

  “Why isn’t this the time, then?” he asked. “This is the perfect time. Because nothing of significance ever happens if we aren’t even a little vulnerable.”

  “The last thing I want is significant,” she said, waving her hand a little.

  But it was a false gesture. Because of that tremor.

  He took a step up closer to her but not touching.

  “I dare you to tell me again that you think that was nothing, that you didn’t feel very much. Maybe you’re right, there’s too much between us. There’s already too much between us—we are very acquainted with each other. But everything I know about you makes me want you more, makes me want to learn more. I know you, and I know enough to tell you that you were almost angry and you wanted more. I dare you to deny that you’re warm and pliant and ready to fuck me right now, right on these hard stone steps.”

  Her breaths were shallow again and mouth open. Her eyes moved over him as if she couldn’t believe the things coming out of his mouth. He could barely believe them himself.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what to feel.”

  “Well, let me know when you figure it out.”

  He swallowed back his disappointment, but as he calmed his breathing and unwound Mulder’s leash from the steps, a small glimmer of hope shone steadily in the distance. She hadn’t said no. She had responded to him fiercely. She wanted him, and that was more than he had ever expected.

  He didn’t look at her, because even one look would undo him. As he turned to walk down the steps, his dog came to him and trotted around him, only the wild whipping of her tail betraying any of her feelings. He started down the path, through the gate. But he knew Sarah’s eyes were still on him, still searching for him, as he disappeared from her view.

  Chapter Five

  Who would’ve thought Jake Li had it in him.

  It wasn’t just the kissing, the hot press of his chest against hers, his lips, the tickle of his beard, the hot wash of his tongue. It wasn’t just how unexpected and forceful the grooved muscles of his arms had been.

  It wasn’t just the large and intriguing erection, although that was a big part of it. Who would’ve thought Jake Li had it in him, indeed? But his words, his voice. His eyes like a hand all over—

  Sarah shut the door firmly behind her, gave it an extra shove, smoothed out her shirt, and tried to put herself to rights. But her body was still sunk deep with lust, and even her own touches sent echoes of feeling through her.

  She was in so much trouble.

  She ripped off the hat and the shirt and sank down to the hallway floor.

  She’d stared after him for a long time as he’d left with his dog, part of her mind occupied with his promise to take her on her stoop, part of her admiring his ass, and a very small part of her wondering how he could walk with such a huge and very admirable hard-on.

  Slowly, it turned out.

  Now, with uncomfortable wood floor underneath her, she could almost imagine it might be like reclining on the steps with Jake’s head between her legs. She held that image in her mind, moved her fingers, and there it was—more of an . . . anticlimax for how little it did for her. Her vagina gave her a couple of grudging ripples, and she let out a long-held breath. She sighed, got up, zipped, and went to wash her hands.

  At least any whisper of doubt that her body was interested in having sex again no longer lingered. Too bad it only seemed interested in sex with Jake.

  But she didn’t call him the next day. She didn’t call him after she woke up the next morning and went into the office. She didn’t call him in between patients, when she totted up just how many birth control pills she’d prescribed. She didn’t call him before she took a one-off hip-hop dance class filled with earnest white women and then crossed that off her list forever.

  But she thought about him before she pulled cool sheets over herself at night, and when she should have been considering how expensive her malpractice insurance was versus how many—how few—procedures she was taking on nowadays.

  The ball was in her court, but her court was no place for balls of any kind, especially not—ugh, she was not going to start making dumb jokes about Jake’s balls now, was she?

  It was too difficult for her right now, and she wasn’t going to beat herself up for being a coward when she wasn’t one. Because despite what he’d told her, her whole being was too soft right now. Especially around him. Especially around a person who reminded her of the things she’d had to do when she was still so young and so vulnerable. The things she’d done to make herself into Sarah Soon, ob/gyn, maker of lists, taker of names, kicker of asses.

  • • •

  The third time Jake ran into Sarah accidentally was at a chichi bar in the Pearl that Sarah said was owned by one of her friends. Said friend—Ian—was laughing with a big, blond man, Adam. Sarah introduced the two to Jake grudgingly. Of course, they noticed right away how Jake gazed at Sarah and how Sarah avoided looking at Jake. Their suspicions were immediately raised. Neither seemed cowed by Sarah’s glare.

  “I am not going out with Jake, and don’t you dare say a word to Petra about it if you value your life,” she’d told Ian.

  “Sarah’s too ethical to really harm him,” Adam told Jake cheerily.

  “And if you try something sneaky, I’ll use my last dying breath to let Petra know that you violated the spirit of the Hippocratic oath if not the letter,” Ian added.

  She swore at them, but to Jake she barely grunted a goodbye.

  He’d made Sarah Soon run from him.

  The fourth time they met by chance was at the sushi place.

  She didn’t actually say that this was her stomping grounds, but her face was fairly transparent. He’d had fewer squabbles over territory and friends with his ex-wife. In fact, he hadn’t had any at all.

  “What? The food is good!” he said, a little defensively.

  Sarah scowled, but not before he saw reluctant agreement flitting over her face.

  “Let’s make that order to go, please,” she said to the waiter.

  And he almost felt a little guilty, because while the food had indeed been good, another part of him had showed up on purpose in hopes that he’d run into her here. But he definitely did feel guilty because he was there waiting for his date to show up.

  It was a jerk move. But Sarah hadn’t called him, and he wasn’t going to go to her if she wasn’t ready. And, of course, by now he’d had time to become unsure of himself.

  He was no longer married, after all. He had thought he was going to be with Ilse for the rest of his life. Everyone expected him to do certain things: be sad, cover it up with empty socializing, not have feelings for a while. He’d tried to resist that, but aside from his dog, who’d love him even if he didn’t give her liver treats, he wasn’t getting much support. So he was going on one date with a woman who over chat seemed smart and sensible and, above all, cautious. And he was going to enjoy himself. Cautiously.

  At this sushi restaurant that Sarah frequented.

  Then again, his excuse was that he didn’t really know a lot of places, and this one was pretty much perfect: quiet, with genuinely good food, and a little too antiseptic to be romantic. He was bringing a great attitude to this first date.

  Sarah took a seat near him but not at his table.

  “Why is it that I’ve accidentally run into you more in the last month than in the last six years we’ve both lived in the same city?”

  “I didn’t go out that much when I was married.”

  Sarah grunted, but she seemed to relax a bit.

  “We lived a little farther out,” he continued. “I cooked more. And now I’m in a new neighborhood, and I’m trying to see the city.”<
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  She nodded. “You cook.”

  “I try.” She leveled a look at him, and he held up his hands. “I did most of the food prep growing up.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Well, I figured out how to not turn a piece of salmon into a dry, cottony slab, to salt the pasta water, to chop everything for a stir fry the same size. I can turn out a decent meal.”

  Before she had an opportunity to ask why he was then here, his SnogAppeal date, Lydia, came hesitantly to his table.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said glancing from Sarah to Jake.

  He stood up abruptly, almost knocking his water glass over.

  “Lydia. Hi. I’m sorry; I was just talking to my . . . friend. This is Sarah.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t—”

  Sarah said quickly, too quickly for his liking, “It’s cool. We’re not—”

  And he said, “It’s—we’re just—”

  Lydia still hadn’t sat down.

  “My food is going to be here really soon, and I’ll be leaving,” Sarah said.

  She nodded as if for emphasis, and something about seeing her pointy little chin go up and down decisively annoyed him. She didn’t have to pretend she didn’t like him when clearly she did. But now that the clock had officially started running on his date with another woman, it was probably not the time to get into that particular argument.

  He turned to Lydia. She had soft brown hair in an old-fashioned pageboy and a pair of cat eyeglasses. He had swiped her because she seemed dreamy and gentle in her picture. But maybe that was just the filter, because in person, Lydia seemed pretty sharp—if shy. Her left eyebrow was raised, and she still seemed to be focused on Sarah. Well, so was he.

  The waiter came by with a menu for her, and Lydia stayed perched at the edge of her chair. Like Sarah, she looked poised to flee. Great, now he was driving women away in pairs. Maybe it would become exponential as time passed.

  “We were just talking about how Jake recently moved to a new neighborhood and is feeling up to exploring the city again.”

  “Oh, are you new to Portland?” Lydia asked.

  He darted Sarah a look. “No, but I used to live in University Park.”

  “With your ex-wife?” Lydia gestured at Sarah.

  “I am not his ex-wife.”

  “Did you know the ex?”

  “No, never met her—”

  “Maybe we should stop talking about Ilse,” Jake interjected.

  They studied their menus in silence.

  “The salmon roll special is really good,” he said to break the silence.

  “Ilse. I picture someone tall and blond. You must have made a striking couple.”

  “Not anymore,” Jake said, gritting his teeth in a smile. “So Lydia, you’re a project manager?”

  “For a planning firm. I get a lot done.”

  “Erm, what kinds of projects do you manage?”

  Lydia ignored the question. “So how do you two know each other?”

  “We grew up in the same town.”

  There was a silence.

  A waiter came and asked for their orders. “I’m going to try that salmon roll special,” Lydia said. “Separate checks. And I’ll take it to go.”

  That was quick.

  “Are you kidding me?” Sarah muttered.

  Lydia shook her head. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’ve been on enough of these things to be suspicious. And I think that’s perfectly justified. You two know each other, and you obviously have some kind of history. My doubts are probably going to cloud the entire evening, even after you leave. Jake’s already uncomfortable.”

  She turned and addressed herself to him gently, “Jake, your forearms are A-plus. As fantasy fodder, you seem amazing. But you’re not just hot—you’re complicated, and while that might have been appealing when I was in my twenties, I’m not up for that now. Even if I don’t know you, I know myself. And I can already tell this isn’t going to work, so I’m going to cut my losses and go home and watch Netflix and eat some good—according to you—sushi.”

  The waiter looked left and right, unsure what to do. Jake couldn’t really help him.

  “Well. I kind of respect that,” Sarah said grudgingly. “And the sushi is good.”

  “Like I said, I get a lot done.”

  “I’ll have the salmon roll special to go, too,” said Jake. “But I insist on paying for both.”

  Jake pulled out his wallet, but Lydia was already going to the counter with her credit card out. In a moment, she took out her phone and leaned against the wall.

  “This is not awkward at all,” Jake said.

  “I’m never going to be able to come here again, and it’s your damn fault for bringing a date to my sushi place. They think I’m the third in a love triangle. I’m supposed to be the cool-but-mysterious regular.”

  “Well, now you’re the cool-but-mysterious regular with an active love life.”

  “I have no love life.”

  “Two days ago on your porch you did.”

  Both swung their heads guiltily toward Lydia, who was leaving with her takeout order. She gave a little wave.

  “In another time, she and I could have been friends,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah, I wish we’d met under better circumstances, too.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m sorry my presence at my restaurant ruined it for you then.”

  “I don’t like her that way. But she was right. It wasn’t ever going to work out. She was direct about it. She wasn’t being malicious. She reminds me of you.”

  Sarah was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Sensible girl.”

  “Like I said, I liked her.”

  The waiter dropped two bags of food in front of them.

  Sarah got to her feet. “I should get back.”

  “We could eat together.”

  When she said nothing, he continued. “We should at least talk.”

  “Our talking is what drove Lydia away.”

  “And now the only one left in the room is the giant elephant.”

  Again, she said nothing.

  “Come on,” he said. “Bring the takeout to my house.”

  He left enough cash for both their dinners, slung the bags over one wrist, and put his hand on the small of her back to steer her out. She came willingly.

  “I hope elephants like sushi,” he heard her mutter.

  Chapter Six

  The dog bounded up to both of them when they got inside, lavishing Sarah and Jake with the kind of exuberant affection and enthusiasm that they were not displaying toward each other.

  He took her jacket from her and held out his hand for her purse, too, giving it a tug as he slung it on a peg as if to make sure she wouldn’t make a quick escape. She followed him to the kitchen while he put out more food and water for Mulder, then out to the backyard where Mulder ran after them snuffling happily. Sarah noticed that at one corner, Jake had set up a telescope.

  Jake put their plastic bags on a rusty patio table. He produced a cushion for her chair and stepped back inside to get a couple of water bottles.

  They ate mostly in silence. At first, Sarah needed to get her jangling thoughts under control. But the evening was calm and quiet and she didn’t want to fret anymore—so she stopped worrying about what she was supposed to do next. She watched him, the beetling of his brows as he swiped his sushi through soy sauce and wasabi, the wash of calm on his face when he glanced over at Mulder, the inquisitive but veiled expression whenever his gaze moved over to her.

  She may have shivered a bit, and he noticed that right away, too. Because he pulled a blanket out of a bench seat, shook it out, and wrapped it around her, pausing to drape it around her neck and take in a quick breath of her, and then retreated back to his seat.

  She’d forgotten how patient he was. He would probably go slow.

  The licking fire in her gut spread.

  She put down her chopsticks and hitched the blanket higher ar
ound her. He wasn’t eating. She wasn’t eating. She picked up the containers and began to wrap everything up methodically. He took everything from her hands and followed her into the house. Mulder wasn’t nearly so polite. She bolted through the door and skidded across the tile, her claws clacking merrily, and she ran off to another room, leaving them alone.

  He put the containers—hers and his—in the fridge.

  No easy escape—at all.

  Then again, she didn’t really want to run. She was here because she’d made a decision at the restaurant. She had gotten in his car. She had come to his house. So she took a deep, steadying breath and pulled in the faint rain-damp smell of him, and she felt her chest warm in anticipation.

  “All right,” he said, putting himself across the kitchen from her. “Let’s talk.”

  He squared his shoulders and directed his liquid gaze toward her.

  “I do want you,” she said. She could hardly breathe, but she had to get the next words out. He took a step forward. She held up her hand. “But I’m scared. And nothing will make me angrier than you dismissing my fear or daring me—daring me!”

  “What?”

  “Your words: I dare you to tell me again that you think that was nothing. I dare you to deny that you’re—I don’t know, ready to fuck me on the steps! I can’t remember exactly.” She clenched her fists. “Does that reverse psychology really work? I’m not a child on the monkey bars. You don’t get me to do things by saying, I dare you. I’m not a coward for being cautious. You let me down once. And yes, I know we were both kids at the time, but that sharpens my fear, Jake. I felt everything more back then, and that makes it difficult to get past it. This can’t ever be some simple one-night stand—this can’t be, because there’s already too much between us.”

  “I know, and that’s not what I’m after. Like you said, we know each other too well. But also not enough, Sarah. I have always liked you and wanted more.”

  Another step closer.

  She said desperately, “I don’t want you to tell me that the past doesn’t matter. Because it does. We’ve hurt each other before. I—I threw a rock at you once. I called you terrible names.”