On day three of their...thing, she presented Connor her terms, written on a note card.
Rule number one: no telling anyone. God forbid she date one of Manningsport's favorite sons and have it not work out. She already had enough of a reputation to deal with. Plus, Davey. She had to figure a way to make him okay with this, and right now she had no clue.
Rule number two: no coming over when Davey was awake, and never without checking with her first.
Rule number three: no sappiness. Sappiness was just not her thing, and so no flowers, no cards, no you make me want to be a better man stuff.
Connor listened with a half smile and a raised eyebrow. "Anything else, majesty?" he asked when she was done.
"I'm sure there is. I just can't think of it right now." She put the index card back in her pocket.
They were walking on one of the paths on Ellis Farm, which was partially open to the public. It was cold, and she'd ridden her bike there, since her car was still acting finicky.
Hardly anyone came out to Ellis Farm on a cold, sleety November day, which was exactly why Jess had chosen it.
"So how long will we be a secret, Juliet?" he asked.
"As long as I say, Romeo. Is that a problem?"
"Anything for you." He gave her a crooked grin. "Can I kiss you? Do I need permission for that first? Are there guidelines for that on your index card?"
She pulled the card out and pretended to check. Playfulness. That was new for her, outside of goofing around with her brother. "Well...you can, but you have to make it good."
He did. He had the most beautiful mouth, his lips full, and he seemed to know just how to kiss her-- gentle and soft, or urgent and hard, and no matter what, it made her insides curl and squeeze and light up in beautiful shades of purple and red. This kiss was long and slow and lovely, his mouth moving over hers, his hands sliding down to her hips to pull her against him, his razor stubble scraping gently. His tongue touched hers, and her knees buckled a little.
Then a dog barked, and they broke apart. Connor tapped the tip of her nose with his finger, smiled, and they continued walking. An Irish setter ran past, followed closely by its owner, not someone Jess knew.
"Horrible weather, isn't it?" the guy said.
"Sure is," Connor answered.
And when the man was gone, Connor took her hand.
That was all. They just walked, hand in hand.
Another first. Kind of embarrassing, the effect of Connor's big, warm hand holding hers so firmly, and acting like it wasn't a big deal. Boys hadn't wanted to hold her hand back in high school. They'd wanted to get into her pants.
And since high school, when she'd been working toward getting Davey and herself out of the trailer park and away from her parents, she hadn't dated anyone. There was no need to; Davey had a reputation as being liked by a lot of big, strong guys, and the bullying had mostly stopped. He was as safe as she could make him.
But now she was on a walk with a gorgeous man who was funny and thoughtful, who hadn't made her feel like trash when he'd seen her embarrassing attempt at rhythm and stripping, who scrambled eggs for her, who didn't ask prying questions about her family...who just seemed to like her, and who had been amazing in bed the five--and counting--times they'd done the deed.
She was pretty sure she didn't deserve this. Pretty sure the other shoe was about to drop.
Hence, the rules. Hopefully, they would soften the blow.
They met when she could get away, always at his tiny apartment, sometimes in the morning, when Davey was at school, sometimes late at night, just for an hour or so. She'd leave a note for Davey--Going for a run!--and a stick figure drawing of her doing just that, then ask Ricky, the guy who lived next door, to keep the baby monitor on his porch; the houses were so close together that if Davey woke up, which he rarely did since the kid slept like a rock, Ricky could hear.
Then she'd head to Connor's, her heart light and buzzing, a warm flush wrapping her like a hug.
On the night of the restaurant's grand opening, she arranged for Davey to stay overnight with their mom, who was enjoying a brief sober spell. Dad was at a casino, so he wouldn't be back for a day or so or longer. And Mom did love Davey, even if she was sloppy about looking after him. Jess had taken all the booze with her; she'd found Mom's stash and dumped the half inch of bourbon and the half bottle of cheap vodka into the sink. With Mom's sobriety, it was always a question of when she'd fall off the wagon, not if. Then Jess asked Mrs. Cooper to check on Davey once or twice, to make sure Mom was "okay," which Mrs. Cooper knew meant awake and sober.
"You bet, honey," Mrs. Cooper said. "I owe you from all the times you watched Sarah."
The restaurant was jam-packed, and Jess knew everyone. Gerard Chartier talked her into joining the volunteer fire department, Colleen was making everyone laugh, Jeremy Lyon came back for the weekend from medical school, and this time, seeing him and Faith Holland together--still sticky-sweet in love--didn't give Jess a pang.
She had a guy now, even if it was on the sly. And Jeremy had always been too perfect, anyway. Leave him for Princess Super-Cute.
That night Connor occasionally came out of the kitchen to press the flesh, and every time, his eyes found hers and rested a beat too long, and that wonderful, hot tightening would start in the pit of her stomach, making her feel what she imagined drunk felt like--not like her parents' version of drunk, but happy and loose and hopeful.
The food was amazing. And free. Crab cakes, creamy lasagna, tiny cheeseburger sliders, quesadillas, salads, shrimp wrapped in prosciutto, slices of bread stuffed with garlic and spinach...every bite succulent and filled with layers of flavor. Colleen, ever gorgeous and lively, was putting on a good show, sliding beers down the bar, spinning martini shakers, but it was Connor's food that practically brought people to their knees.
O'Rourke's would be a smashing success; Jessica could see that. Because of Connor. Colleen was great, and Jess had always liked her, but Connor was the real star.
And he was hers.
The thought made her heart feel almost too big for her chest.
When the grand opening wound down, Jess waited in the park by the lake until the lights went on in Connor's apartment, and then knocked at the back door.
A minute later Connor opened, hair wet from a shower, jeans on but not buttoned. No shirt, his muscular chest utterly perfect, the smooth skin on his ribs begging for her hands.
Her knees were already soft with want.
He leaned in the doorway, and a smile tugged one corner of his mouth.
"Jessica Dunn. What are you doing here?" he said, and his voice scraped against that soft, aching place inside her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him.
Good God.
She spent the whole night.
A thought occurred to her in the dark, after Connor had made love to her for the second time and was sleeping, his heavy, beautiful arm around her, a dangerous thought, the kind she knew she shouldn't think, piercing into her brain like an ice pick.
She felt safe.
The thought itself made her almost jolt up in bed.
That was usually the forerunner of doom.
She'd thought she was safe when she was nine and her father actually won seven thousand dollars on a scratch-card, and that money was going to help them get a better place to live. It would be the start of a new life for them, where Dad could get a job he'd keep; he'd always thought he'd be a good mechanic, and they made lots of money, and Mom would sober up if they lived in a real house because it wouldn't be so depressing, and Davey could get into that nursery school with the nuns who'd help him more than the public school, where he was always pulled out for speech therapy or put in time-outs.
That weekend, her father went to Rolling Thunder Casino and lost the seven grand plus eight hundred more...everything they had. The electricity had been turned off for six weeks, and Mrs. Cooper brought them food.
She'd felt safe, too, when Mom had three mont
hs of sobriety when Davey was six and Jess was thirteen. She'd lain there in bed, Davey's soft little snores so sweet and lovable just a few feet away, and it dawned on Jess that at last, she wouldn't have to be the one in charge, that maybe she could stay after school for extra help in math, now that Mom was sober and life was normal.
The next day, Davey had an outburst in kindergarten. Mom was called in and after she collected Davey, stopped at the package store for a handful of little Popov vodka bottles. When Jess got home, Davey was asleep on the couch in front of Terminator II, his face covered with dried snot from crying, and Mom was passed out in bed.
When she was sixteen, she'd felt safe after her mother's mother came to stay, a woman Jess had only met once before. Mom was in the hospital with jaundice, and Dad was who knew where, and all of a sudden, Grandma had pulled into the trailer park with three bags of groceries. She cooked for Jess and Davey and did the dishes, too, and said she respected Jessica for having a job. She wasn't a warm and cuddly grandmother, but she was there, she was sober and she took charge. Davey was scared of her, but he'd get over it, and it was so, so nice to have a real adult in the house. On her second night with them, around 10:30, Grandma looked at her and said, "You have to get up early. Why don't you go to bed?"
No one sent Jessica to bed. No one cared if she got enough sleep. "Okay," she said, and she had the thought to kiss her grandmother. She didn't, but something filled her chest, something warm and wonderful.
Then, on the fourth day, Mom came home, still a little yellow around the eyes, and Grandma went back to Nevada. She died the next year.
So feeling safe...it was stupid. Nothing was safe. No one was safe.
But then Connor murmured in his sleep and pulled her a little closer, and she lay there, her hand over his heart, and tried not to feel safe.
*
CHICO THREE WAS a puppy, another pit bull, because their terrible reputation aside, they could be very sweet, gentle dogs. Chico the Original...well, he'd been fine with the four of them. But something had happened to him before they got him, and he was scary when strangers came around. Jessica had tried to take care of the problem by chaining him to the rusting aluminum railing that led up the two steps to their trailer. She should've known it would break. She should've checked. She'd been worried about Levi's little sister, who was only two, and even afraid for Levi and Mrs. Cooper. The fact that the railing broke...she should've seen that coming.
But their next dog, Chico Two (obviously named by Davey) had been a great dog, a genuine sweetheart. He lived to be a ripe old age, but last month when he could no longer stand or eat, Jess carried him to the car and drove out to the veterinarian, trying not to cry, telling him what a good dog he was as the vet injected him with the mixture that would stop his heart. Davey had been devastated, of course. Broke the bathroom door with his head-banging, though she'd managed to get his helmet on him first.
Jess waited a month or so, then called the shelter, and of course they had pit bulls--they always did. Chico Three was fourteen weeks old, and Davey fell madly in love with him at first sight. So did Jess, for that matter.
And she decided that she'd ask her boyfriend--her boyfriend!--over to see the new puppy. After Davey was asleep. The other shoe hadn't dropped, and, well, this was what normal people did. She thought so, anyway.
She called him up. "Hey. You want to come over and watch a movie tonight?" she asked. It was Tuesday, his night off.
There was a pause, and Jess actually flinched. Maybe he didn't want to come. Maybe she was just a booty call. Maybe--
"Yeah. Absolutely. What can I bring?"
"Um...nothing. Just...just show up. After eight, okay?"
"Thank you, Jess." His voice made her stomach contract in that strange, scary happiness.
She hung up and bit her thumbnail. Ricky, her next-door neighbor, who was always outside, waxing his beloved red Camaro, would see Connor coming. And while Gerard Chartier came and went, it was pretty well known that he was Davey's babysitter. Connor was not a babysitter. It might be pretty obvious, in fact, that she had a boyfriend.
Terrifying. Kind of exhilarating, too. Maybe.
She went to the three houses where she worked as a home heath aide and zipped through her chores, then raced home to clean the house. She was a little anal about cleanliness, as the trailer had had mold and sticky, decades-old shag carpeting, but with Davey and a puppy, there was always some mess to clean up.
The rental house wasn't much--cheaply built back in the seventies, identical to Ricky's, but Jess had done her best to make it nice. She shopped tag sales religiously, always the first one there, and over the years, had scored some nice things: charmingly mismatched pieces of Fiestaware, a painted ceramic bowl from Italy, a decent powder-blue couch that wasn't attractive, but was clean and comfortable, a wobbly bookcase she painted black and shimmed till it didn't tip anymore, and a kitchen table with three chairs for when Mom would come over for supper.
The backyard was mostly dirt, but there was a tree that was good for climbing. Davey loved to climb trees, and because he did, Jess did, too. Otherwise, it was pretty drab. Ricky was a great neighbor, though he had some dark times when he'd just disappear inside the house for a week or so, not answering the door, leaving the TV on twenty-four hours a day; he was a vet and had some pretty severe PTSD. Jess would bring him food and leave it on the porch during those times. The neighbors on the other side fought a lot, and Jess had had to call the police a few times, which didn't make them love her.
Someday she'd own her own place. A house with a backyard that was more than a cracked cement patio and crabgrass. She'd have a flower garden, the ultimate luxury, and grow tomatoes and basil, too. There'd be a porch with a glider and hanging baskets. That always seemed like the crown jewel to her...big, full baskets of flowers brightening the entire street, attracting hummingbirds, which always fascinated Davey, and butterflies, which her mom adored.
That was what normal people did.
But for now, this house was fine. It was shabby, but it was a real house, with a cellar and everything, and the landlord wasn't horrid; the rent was manageable.
Davey was extra tired that day, so somewhat miraculously, he fell asleep early, Chico Three snuggled under his arm. Jess took another pass through the house, flipped the seat down on the toilet since Davey never did. Straightened a towel. Cleaned off the counters.
She was nervous. She'd never had a boy over like this. Levi Cooper was the only one who'd ever come to their trailer to hang out, and that was only because he lived in the trailer across the way.
A half hour later, Connor pulled up in his truck. Her chest prickled with a flush, and her heart rate doubled. He held a pot of yellow chrysanthemums.
"Hey," he said, standing there on her stoop. "Thank you for having me."
"Yeah, sure," she said. "Thanks for the flowers. Um...you can put them on the step there."
He obeyed, then came in, filling the small kitchen. How tall was he? Six-two? Tall.
"This is nice," he said. "You have a...what does Colleen say? A good eye. For, you know. Color and stuff. It's very clean, too. It's great, I mean. Thanks for inviting me over."
So he was nervous, too. "We have to be quiet, okay? Davey's asleep. He doesn't usually wake up, but..."
"Okay."
He just looked at her with those eyes of his, those tangled lashes and the perfect, clear blue-gray color. Those eyes should be against the law. His hands, too. He smelled like soap; he'd showered before coming here, she could tell, and it was somehow very innocent and sweet that he'd taken a shower before coming here.
Clearing her throat, she said, "I guess I'll...make popcorn. Why don't you put the movie on?" They had an old TV and a VCR; probably the last VCR in existence, but it had been free, and Davey loved his movies.
Jess made the popcorn. It was so strange having Connor here, in the next room. In her house.
This was like a real date. This was a real date.
&nb
sp; She dumped the popcorn into the Italian bowl and went into the living room. Was it supposed to be this awkward? It felt very awkward. "Want anything to drink?" she asked. Should've asked that before.
"I'm good. Thank you."
They sat on the couch.
"Thanks for doing this, Jess," Connor said, and she couldn't quite look at him.
"You're welcome," she whispered. Her pulse slipped and skidded, and she could feel her cheeks heating with a blush.
She was happy.
She was home, her brother was safe and she had a boyfriend. The first boyfriend ever. And God help her, this felt real. It wasn't just a quick escape; it wasn't so he'd be nice to Davey; it was because she liked Connor O'Rourke.
And he liked her.
He smelled so good. Her skin prickled and hummed, and she couldn't even remember what movie she'd picked up from the library, though the opening credits were rolling and some ominous music played. She could feel the heat of his arm, which was so close to touching hers.
Then he looked at her, and she was kissing him before she even knew it.
They kissed and shifted and kissed some more, and Jess turned up the volume a little to make sure Davey wouldn't hear anything. Nothing ever felt as good as his heavy, hard body against hers, practically on top of her now. How could a guy who cooked and ate all day feel so strong? The muscles in his shoulders slid and tensed under her hands, the long line of his back was smooth and lean. His hand was on her breast, teasing and gentle, his leg between hers, asserting all sorts of delicious pressure, and Jessica thought if they could just do this for the next fifty years or so, she wouldn't ask for anything else.
He pulled back, breathing hard, looked at her, eyes heavy, cheeks ruddy. Then he smiled. "This is fun," he whispered.
She nodded.
Then Connor looked over her shoulder. "We have company," he said.
It was Chico Three, wagging his tail, head cocked, like he was waiting for an introduction.
"Chico Three, this is Connor," Jessica said. "Connor, meet Davey's new puppy."
Connor disentangled himself, leaving Jessica feeling unfulfilled and a bit empty. But it was okay; the night was young. He sat up, scooping the puppy onto his lap. "Hey, boy," he said, and Chico wriggled with delight, wagging wildly, nipping Connor's chin, making little whining noises of delight. "Ow," Con said, smiling. "Those are some sharp teeth. No biting, Chico."
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