Pause

by Kylie Scott

  But it’s his job. It’s just his job.

  He did not ask for that woman to take her top off. And if he walks out of the back office and I’m immediately all up in his face with my insecurities it won’t be good. I need to be cool about this. Bring it up all casual like later when we’re at home. Just sort of have a chat about things. Again.

  God knows how long I’ve been staring off at nothing contemplating Leif’s hands on another woman’s body, but Courtney comes out of the back room, still tugging on her loose top. I jump to my feet for some reason. Not on edge at all.

  “Time for a cigarette,” she says.

  I fake smile again because customer service matters. Also, my boobs are a bit smaller than hers and about five years older. That’s five extra years of dealing with gravity and underwire, thank you very much. Oh well. There’s nothing I can do about them right here and now. Not that I would if I could. Heck. I’m driving myself insane.

  Behind her comes Leif, looking no different regardless of where his hands have been. Jeans, sneakers, and a tee featuring Godzilla. He’d suggested this morning that it was a subtle reference to his monster-size dick. Bless him. He keeps right on walking until he’s backed me against the counter.

  “Hi,” he says.

  “Hi.”

  Our faces are close and our bodies even closer.

  “I guess we’re not playing it cool at work?” I ask. Another thing we forgot to talk about.

  “Eh. Whatever.” He gives his brother a disinterested glance over his shoulder. “Unless you want me to play it cool at work? You’re not worried about idiot over there, are you?”

  Ed calmly raises his middle finger and keeps setting up for his next client.

  “You mean my boss?” I ask.

  “Yeah. Him.”

  “I guess not,” I say. “I mean, he seems okay with us.”

  “Of course he is.”

  “Though this does seem a little beyond roommates with benefits.”

  He scratches at his stubble. “You think?”

  “What I think is that we should talk later.”

  Leif blinks. “You want to talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He shifts even closer. “I don’t have a lunch break today, so can it wait until we go home?”

  “Yes.”

  “So we’ll go home, talk about whatever you want to talk about, and then I’ll dance for you.”

  My brows rise. “You’re going to dance for me?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Ed snorts. He tries to turn it into a cough, but it’s not very believable.

  “Did you study dance when you were at school or something?” I ask, curious. Honestly, nothing would surprise me when it comes to Leif.

  But it’s Ed that answers, “He was on the cheer team for like three weeks because he thought it’d get him in with the hot girls. But all that happened was he pulled a hamstring showing off trying to do a backflip.”

  I bite back a smile.

  “I wasn’t trying to do a backflip,” says Leif. “I was executing one perfectly. Right up until the hamstring went ping. My dream career cut tragically short.”

  “That’s so sad.” Still trying not to smile. “I feel bad for you.”

  “Thanks.” He inspects my forehead. “Anna, you’re ‘I’m worried’ line is on display.”

  “My ‘I’m worried’ line?”

  He tips his chin. “When you’re overthinking something with all your heart and soul, you get a little line between your eyebrows. It’s how I know to tread carefully.”

  “I’m really not mysterious.”

  “You’re really not,” he agrees. “But I like you anyway. Can you give me a hint what’s going on?”

  I sigh. I even make me tired sometimes. “It’s okay, really. Like you said, I’m just overthinking things. We’ll talk about it later.”

  “If you say so.” He’s not happy. “Later, then.”

  The bell above the door rings as Courtney steps back inside. She smiles, but she’s not looking quite as perky as before. Her movements are careful, and there’s a tightness about her eyes and jaw. She doesn’t look like someone enthusing about baring her perfect breasts to a hot stranger. More like someone willing herself to push through the pain and get through this. Getting your sternum tattooed might not be quite as sexy as I’d been imagining.

  Then Leif smacks his mouth against mine, kissing me hard and fast. It’s hot and frenzied and has quite the impact. And he doesn’t go light on the tongue. The kiss leaves absolutely no doubt in anyone’s mind as to who he’s with. As statements go, it’s a pretty great one.

  “You good for now?” he asks.

  “I’m good for now.”

  Then he nods.

  I’m still smiling, dazed and confused, when Leif and Courtney disappear out back once more. It doesn’t matter whose body parts he’d fondling on behalf of his job. The man is with me.

  Ed shakes his head. “Told you.”

  “You told me,” I agree. “Do you really think he’s going to dance for me?”

  “Just don’t let him try the backflip.”

  “I always thought you were way too tense for someone who was apparently getting it on the regular,” says Briar over FaceTime.

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  We’ve already dissected a TV series, a handbag I’m thinking of buying, and certain passive-aggressive tendencies displayed by a new barista at Briar’s favorite coffee shop. Girl talk for the win.

  “Huh,” I say. “It never occurred to me that my sex life with the Ex affected my demeanor, but who knows?”

  “It’s a known fact that when the orgasms are good you’re in a better mood.”

  “This does make sense.”

  “Ryan was a nice enough guy up to a point,” she says. “But I had my reservations as to whether he was capable of actually getting the job done.”

  “You thought about my ex and me having sex?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “Ew.”

  She laughs too. “Like we haven’t dissected my sex life constantly over the past not quite a decade. God, you can be a big baby. I considered the physical satisfaction and welfare of my friend. It basically makes me a good person. And don’t act like you’re incapable of being an inappropriate gossip queen when it suits you. I know you too well for this.”

  “This is true.” I sigh. “This revelation fascinates me. What the hell gave it away?”

  “He’s just one of those men that have issues seeing beyond themselves, I think. Women are like an adjunct to them. As if we’re not quite real on some level. Like our wants and needs are lesser somehow. And if they’re not seeing us as people, then why take the time and trouble to see to our bedroom needs beyond the basic.”

  “Such as the manly art of providing and so on?”

  “Exactly. Don’t forget the grilling. Grilling is very manly.”

  “Hmm,” I say. “He did have a pretty traditional outlook in a lot of ways. Insert wife here and she does these set things. I wouldn’t say he established parameters exactly, but there were expectations that could be a little constraining at times. Like he’d be surprised by some of the stuff I did. It’s amazing how people can make you feel like shit without saying a word.”

  “It is. And I think their parents are to blame in part for painting a picture of the female of the species as either being a Madonna or whore with little in between.”

  “I hear you,” I say. “Like mother and family and home are all we’re capable of. Or all that’s fitting. I hate that shit. The idea that our role in life is solely determined by our designated sex organs instead of our brains and our hearts.”

  “Lots of idiot men out there feel that way.”

  “They need to take a look at the calendar and see what century they’re living in.”

  “True,” she says.

  “I think their parents have something to answer for in helping to establish that point of view.”

&nbs
p; “Along with the person themselves needing to answer some hard questions,” says Briar. “You can only blame your parents for ruining your life for so long.”

  “I actually quite enjoy hanging my issues on Mom sometimes.”

  “Hell, we’ve all done that. Don’t feel special.”

  “Whatever gets you through the night,” I agree. “It’s nice to know that our Introduction to Psychology class can come in handy all these years later.”

  “Professor Callihan was something else.”

  “Oh, he was so hot.”

  “The thirst was real.”

  “I enjoyed that class for many and varied reasons.”

  “I totally respected the man for his mind,” jokes Briar. “Maybe we should have taken some philosophy as well to aid us in our spouting deep and intelligent-sounding bullshit regarding each other’s love lives.”

  I click my tongue. “Yeah. That would be something. Imagine the size of the words we could use then.”

  “We should start a podcast. Just us dissecting people’s love lives and general life choices.”

  “Like everyone could benefit from our wisdom?” I ask.

  “Exactly.”

  “God help everyone,” I laugh, and she laughs, and it’s all so good. Just chatting with a friend. Feeling that connection with the sisterhood and all. Clem and Tessa had asked me to accompany them to a movie sometime, but I don’t know. Something held me back. As much as I liked them, I didn’t want to rush into anything.

  “Though getting back to the subject of woman as breeder and child wrangler.” She pauses to clear her throat. “You do want to have children and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “There is nothing wrong with that. It’s just not all I want, you know?”

  “So what do you want?” she asks, head cocked.

  At this, I’m laughing again. “Oh, boy. After all of my brave words, I don’t actually know. I’m still figuring it out.”

  “It’s not over until it’s over. You have time. There’s no rush.”

  “Thanks.” I wrinkle my nose, thinking deep thoughts. “Do you think I’m rushing into this, though?”

  “This as in Leif?”

  “Yeah. Seeing someone so soon after the divorce has given me pause. I’m sure certain people would be horrified.”

  “Fuck them. No, I don’t think you’re moving too fast,” she says. “It’s been months since you and that cheating fool were together as an actual couple. Don’t beat yourself up over the imagined opinions of people who don’t matter.”

  I sigh. “You’re right.”

  “Furthermore, I think the universe sends us opportunities on its own timeline and we can either take the chance and make it work or not,” she says. “There’s never a perfect time to meet someone. There’s always something going on or some issue in your head you should be dealing with on your own. But life keeps right on happening.”

  “God, you’re wise.”

  “About some things, maybe.” She narrows her eyes. “Here’s a question for you . . . do you still believe in love?”

  “That sounds like the start of a Cher song.”

  She snorts. “Don’t go there.”

  In an act of pure avoidance, I turn the question back on her. “Tell me, Briar, do you believe in love?”

  “Well, the bartender I may have mentioned a time or two certainly has given a lot of time and attention to give me. A lot of physical affection. We definitely have chemistry. It could certainly develop into something.” Her tongue plays behind her cheek. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love exactly. Not the kind of true, enduring, and abiding love we all hear about and they keep putting into songs and books and movies. The fact is, I was focusing on my studies and now my main priority is my job. But that doesn’t mean someone couldn’t come along and encourage me to make room for more. You never know.”

  “It’s up to fate, then.”

  “I think it is.”

  “Romantic love is nice and all, but it’s not like we don’t have lots of other types of love in our life.”

  “This is also true,” she says.

  “Friendship, family, et cetera.”

  “They can all be hugely important and rewarding.”

  “Speaking of which, I was thinking a trip to New York around Christmastime would be nice. We could freeze our ass off in the big city.”

  “Really?” Her eyes light up. “I highly recommend you write that into your calendar. I would love to have you come visit. Not sure I’ll be making it home again this year.”

  “It’s decided then. We can shop and drink and so on.”

  “We sure can. I’ll be looking forward to it.” She grins. “You never did answer my question, though.”

  “What question?”

  “Do you still believe in love?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I think relationships are hard and it’s easy to coast along on the basis of not causing waves. In which case, you ultimately just sort of drift apart.”

  Her brows rise. “Nice boating analogies.”

  “I’m probably not the best person to talk to about love just yet.”

  “But what about the initial rush of falling in love,” she asks. “Do you still believe in that?”

  I stick out my tongue. “I don’t know.”

  “Do me a favor and ask Leif what he thinks.”

  “What?” I semi screech.

  “Just do it.” And the woman hangs up on me.

  I set my cell down on the dining room table and take a breath. “Hell no. That’s never going to happen.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I don’t think this is traditionally how it’s meant to be done.”

  “Anna, baby,” he says, gesturing with his hand while doing an impressive thrust of the hips. Very Elvis. “Give me more. I don’t dance for free.”

  Since I left my shoes at the door and I’ve already thrown my white embroidered button-down at him, I stand and shimmy out of my dark blue jeans. Those I kind of kick across the floor in his general direction since it would be dangerous to throw them if the belt buckle caught him in the face. I like his face how it is just fine.

  “Thank you,” he says and does a twirl. He’s quite the dancer. That he can leer at me in my underwear while dancing at the same time is a hell of a skill.

  “I like this song.”

  “Hozier is great.”

  At this point he attempts the moon walk, but I’m sad to say it doesn’t quite work. Maybe he needs to try it again in just socks instead of wearing his boots. Too much grip.

  “That was great,” I lie encouragingly, sitting cross-legged on the sofa in my underwear. Because why not be comfortable? Only Leif can see me and he apparently appreciates the view. This is my home now. Though this does mean the Maintaining a Reasonable Standard of Clothing in Joint Areas of the Household rule is well and truly out the window.

  “I need to practice more often.” He grins. Then he stops grinning and gives me his serious expression. “What’d you want to talk about?”

  “Oh, right . . .”

  Now he’s doing the twist. And waiting for my next words. This is expressed through some come-hither-type hand movements. Unless he’s doing a mangled version of the mashed potato. In all honesty, it could be either.

  “Are we exclusive?” I ask, sitting up straight. Like I’m being interviewed for a job position or something. Which is silly. Maybe I shouldn’t have just blurted it out, but we’re never going to get anywhere if I’m not open and honest. I know that much for sure.

  “Yes.” And that’s it. That’s all he says.

  “Um. Okay. You don’t want to discuss it or anything?”

  “Nah.” He pauses. “Wait. Did you not want to be exclusive?”

  “No, I do. That’s fine with me.”

  “Good,” he says. “Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

  I think it over. “No.”

  “There’s nothing else on your mind? Are yo
u sure?”

  “You mean like what are we going to have for dinner or something?”

  “No,” he says, with a pained expression. “I mean like the you-feeling-uncomfortable-with-me-seeing-other-women’s-body-parts-sometimes-when-I work issue.”

  I frown. “Ed tell you about that?”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t need to. I could tell you weren’t exactly comfortable while I was with Courtney.”

  Guess it’s not exactly a surprise Ed told him, what with them being family and everything. But I need to bear in mind that conversations I have with him in future might be shared with Leif. Think I need to practice my poker face in general.

  “You’re right, I wasn’t,” I say. “But that’s not an us problem.”

  “There’s an us?”

  I shrug.

  “I’m fine with it, just curious. So. How is this not an us problem?”

  “Whatever our relationship is, seeing body parts is part of your job,” I explain. “You’re not asking these women to take their clothes off in front of you for kicks.”

  “Of course not. I have you for that.” He holds out his hand. “Bra, please.”

  I dutifully start wrestling with the closure. I have a serious problem saying no to this man. “Leif, I still think it’s you who should be stripping for me here.”

  “Nah. My way is better.”

  “Whatever,” I say, tossing the item of underwear at his head. “Get dancing then. Show me those moves.”

  “I really wish I’d learned ‘Single Ladies’ by Beyoncé. Now that would be impressive.”

  “It would be cool,” I agree.

  He starts doing a side-shuffle-type thing. The man has snake hips. They’re mesmerizing really. “You were explaining why your discomfort over certain aspects of my work isn’t a conversation that involves both of us despite us doing vaguely heavy-duty-relationship-type stuff these days.”

  “Heavy duty?”

  He just shrugs.