Possibilities

by Michelle Grotewohl

  He sounded a little pissed, maybe upset, possibly hurt, by the thought that she didn’t want to be like him. She hastened to correct him.

  “It’s not that. It’s just surprising, that’s all. We seem so different, you and I.”

  He sent her a dark look. “Not as different as you thought, I guess.”

  She refused to cower just because he’d gotten his pride stung incorrectly. “I guess so,” she said calmly, turning back to the chicken as if it didn’t matter.

  Inside, though, she couldn’t say one way or the other.

  Did it bother her to have so much in common with him? And if it did, why? It wouldn’t mean she was like him in other things, because she certainly wasn’t a player when it came to dating. Besides, Vicki had said he’d matured recently, so maybe it wasn’t so bad either way.

  With a determined nod of her head, she moved the chicken to the pan for frying.

  “What did you decide?” he asked suddenly, his tone testy.

  She lifted her eyes to his. “About what?”

  “About you and I being alike.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “There’s nothing to decide. We have similar taste in books and movies. So what?”

  “So it bothers you.”

  “Does it?” She kept her tone carefully neutral, refusing to give in to his temper and fully aware that he knew what she was doing.

  “Yes, damn it. Don’t screw with me.”

  Adapting the cool cloak she sometimes wore at work, she sent him a frosty look that should have been impossible with her warm eyes, but was that much more effective because of them. “Don’t swear at me,” she said calmly, just to piss him off. “And considering the current situation, I don’t think screwing with you is going to be an option.” Then she turned away from him, giving her full attention to the meal she was preparing.

  He was seething; she could feel it, the heat of it radiating off of him. But she didn’t so much as glance his way, and after a minute, he scoffed and stepped away from the counter, bringing him closer but slightly behind her.

  “There she is. The Evelyn I’m used to. Cold and frigid and bitchy as ever. I have to hand it to you: You had me going for a couple days, believing you’d changed, that you’d warmed a little. But now I see, you were just hiding, waiting for the opportunity to strike.” Then he left her alone, going downstairs and slamming the door.

  She kept herself in check just long enough to cook the chicken. But when it was done, and she’d set it aside to cool, she felt herself cave, and rested her head on her crossed arms on the counter, willing away the tears in her eyes.

  He was right, mostly. She was cold and frigid, and often bitchy, but she felt she had to be. Women like her- smart, nerdy, petite- had a tendency to be walked all over if they weren’t in control of every situation.

  She’d learned that in high school: Always stay cool; keep people at a distance; don’t let anyone see the weaknesses. College had only confirmed that for her, and now, years later, those words had become a mantra.

  Look at her ex, and the couple guys she’d gotten close to before him. They were okay with dating the smart chick when she helped them with homework or their career, and shared their bed. But once they got where they wanted to be- straight A’s or a promotion- they were out, looking for the next woman to help them, someone smarter than Evie or a trophy wife.

  It was hard to trust when those rarely shown weaknesses were exploited so callously. And Drake… Well, she could easily see him becoming one of those weaknesses, though she didn’t think he would use that against her if he knew.

  Still, she thought, calm again, better he didn’t find out she liked him. He’d be kind if he knew, and sometimes that was worse.

  She stood and took a deep breath, scrubbed her hands over her face to wipe away any trace of the few tears she’d let fall, and finished making dinner. When the chicken and two types of lettuce were in a big bowl and mixed with the dressing, she set the table and made sure everything was ready before calling Drake to the table.

  He came up right away, though she’d had her doubts. He said nothing while they ate, but several times she caught him staring at her, searching her face for something or resisting the urge to speak. She was fine with silence and gave no indication otherwise.

  When she’d finished eating, she stood and started to clear the table.

  “Leave it,” he said roughly. “You cooked, I’ll clean up.”

  She lifted startled eyes to his. “You don’t have to-”

  “I’ll get it,” he repeated, his tone brooking to argument.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, though he’d given her no choice. When he didn’t acknowledge her, she bit back a sigh and collected her book. She paused at her bedroom door to look at him. “Good night, Drake.”

  He didn’t respond, but he paused in eating and stared straight ahead, almost like he couldn’t believe she’d said it, or wanted to say it back to her and was fighting himself.

  After a couple seconds, she went into her room and closed the door.

  In the morning, Drake lay in bed, listening to Evie moving around upstairs and thinking about their little tiff the night before. He’d been thinking about it all night.

  He may have been overly sensitive, he knew now, thinking she felt something she didn’t simply because he didn’t think he was good enough for her because of his caddish behavior of the last few- Okay, ten- years.

  He was almost certain he’d made her cry, part of the reason he’d stared at her through most of dinner, but she wasn’t like all the other females he knew who rubbed it in his face just to make him feel bad. Not Evie. She was too tough for that, making her tears that much more effective when they did fall.

  He shouldn’t have said what he said, either. There was never a good reason to call a woman names, most of all a bitch, no matter what she said or did. That was something he’d have to live with forever, even if she forgave him.

  And the only way to get forgiveness was to start begging for it. His plan was to ask her to go out on the boat with him, hope she didn’t tell him to get bent, and then trap her there until she accepted his apology.

  With a sigh, he rose and dressed, then headed upstairs. He opened the door slowly, cautiously, and looked around. When he saw her out on the deck, a book in one hand and half a bagel in the other, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Because he was a coward, he decided to eat breakfast before talking to her, telling himself he needed fortification just in case he had to carry her to the boat and make her listen.

  After breakfast, he made a picnic lunch for their ride, determined as he was that it would happen. Then he carried it and his bag down to the boat- going out through the basement rather than walking past her on the deck.

  He dawdled on the boat as long as he could, rearranging things, checking the fishing poles, making sure there were dry towels in the storage compartment. Of course, everything was just as it should be, which he’d known would be the case.

  Eventually he couldn’t put it off anymore, so he took a deep breath and headed back to the house, going up to the deck rather than back through the basement.

  She was aware he was coming; she had to be. No one was that good at ignoring people. But she didn’t so much as blink when he came into view, and he had to take a quick second to remind himself that if she was pissed, it was his own fault.

  “Evie?”

  “Hm?” She lifted her head, and he saw that while she might be talking to him, she had closed herself off.

  He hated that. Later, he reminded himself. “Wanna go for a boat ride?”

  He saw the war in her gaze. She wanted to tell him no on principle, but she realized that would be self-defeating: After the last two days in the house, she really wanted that boat ride. But she’d probably make him ask again, or try to convince her…

  “Okay.”

  While he stood in shock, amazed that he hadn’t had to do any conv
incing, she gathered her stuff and headed inside.

  “Am I to assume we’ll be swimming?” she asked from the door.

  If he hadn’t been so distracted, he’d have seen the question for what it was: a barely hidden, underhanded way to make him think of her mostly naked and drive him crazy. But since he was, he only said, “Yeah. That sounds good.”

  With a faint frown, she went inside. Drake stood there for a second, wondering what her game was. Even if she’d wanted to go on the boat, she could’ve gotten that by making him work for it, and without saying yes right away.

  It was possible, however unlikely, that she just wasn’t that type of person. After all, he only had the women he’d dated- spoiled debutants and cold workaholics- to compare her to. And she was neither of those. Like last nights ‘tears’ revelation, he was beginning to see how different Evie was.

  Again, at one time, that had been the point, but now… He liked that she didn’t play games. It made things much simpler.

  Hopefully, simple would continue, when he had to throw himself on her mercy. With any luck, she’d understand that the issue had been his, and he meant his apology.

  Time to suit up, Drake, he thought, and went downstairs to change.

  He took the same course he’d taken the other day when they left. He made a lazy circuit of the lake, letting her get comfortable and deep into her book in the hopes she’d be more cooperative if she was content.

  He slowed the pontoon and drifted for a few seconds, until he realized she wasn’t going to help him drop anchor. A little surprised as he hadn’t thought she’d behave vindictively, he looked over at her, and felt his heart melt.

  She’d fallen asleep during the drive, her book resting on her chest, her eyelashes dark crescents on her cheeks.

  As carefully and quietly as possible, he stood and walked to the front of the boat, dropping the anchor with barely a splash. Then he went back and looked her over with his hands on his hips. Deciding to let her sleep, he grabbed a fishing pole and cast into the water.

  Evie came awake to something moving softly over her face. Remembering she’d fallen asleep on the boat while Drake had been cruising the lake, she instantly thought ‘Bug!’, and started swiping at her face.

  “Easy…” Drake’s voice was very close. “It’s just me.”

  She calmed and opened her eyes, gasping when she saw he was only a foot or so away. “What are you doing?”

  He was sitting beside her, hip to hip, leaning toward her with something in his hand. He lifted it, so she could see it was a bottle of sunscreen. “You’ve been asleep for a bit. I didn’t want you to burn.”

  Okay, that was sweet… “Oh, okay. Thanks,” she murmured.

  One corner of his mouth lifted, drawing her attention. “You’re welcome.”

  His eyes moved slowly over her face, spiking her temperature, until they finally rested on her lips, and her heart started pounding. He couldn’t possibly be thinking…

  But he was, she realized a moment later, when his face slowly dropped toward hers. She had two, three seconds tops, to decide if she wanted him to kiss her or not. Open mind, Evie, she thought, and let her eyes drift closed.

  He touched his lips to hers so softly at first that she almost didn’t feel it. And then he increased the pressure, ever so slightly, like he wanted to commit every second to memory, until their lips were firmly pressed together.

  Though she was enjoying this, Evie wanted him to plunder, to show her some of the heat, the passion, the power she knew he possessed.

  But as her mouth was currently occupied, she couldn’t say anything, and he seemed content for the time being to keep it easy, so she let him.

  The kiss got better, though, when he moved to nibble gently at her lips, and in her eagerness to let him, she gasped. He accepted the invitation and came back to settle completely over her mouth, dipping his tongue inside to stroke over hers.

  She whimpered and lifted her head to take the kiss deeper, but he pulled back. Feeling bereft, she stared accusingly up at him.

  “I should be sorry, but I’m not,” he said huskily.

  To let him know she agreed, she shook her head firmly.

  With a smile in his eyes, he said, “One more.”

  She started nodding, but barely had time to move before his tongue was tangled with hers again.

  Here was the heat, she thought as they moved together. Here was the passion, the raw power she’d known he must own. Why else would she think about him even when she didn’t want to, or when she was in a relationship with someone else?

  She felt him move slightly, and then his hand brushed the side of her face before gripping the back of her neck and lifting. She went up to a sitting position, and could only be grateful; this freed her hands so she could touch. If this was the only thing she ever got from him, she wanted all.

  She gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging into the solid flesh. He tilted his head to the side and fisted his hand in her soft tresses, the show of need driving her crazy and making her moan.

  With a sharply drawn breath, he pulled his mouth from hers, holding her back when she would follow with the hand still in her hair. He gasped deeply for air, as if trying to calm himself down. A glance at his lap said she was probably right.

  “We need to breathe a minute,” he said, though he hadn’t released her.

  Having a moment to think made her wonder. “Why did you kiss me?”

  His eyes nearly seared through her when they met hers. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first met you.”

  That stunned her. “But you don’t even like me.”

  He looked both embarrassed and ashamed. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you last night, Evie. I was sucker-punched by my own insecurities, and I lashed out at you. I’m sorry.”

  She was so surprised by his apology that she spoke without thinking. “You have insecurities?”

  He chuckled, though he was clearly torn between annoyance and arrogance. “I am human.”

  “Yes, you’re human, but… You’re Drake,” she said with a shrug.

  He laughed. “What does that mean?”

  “You know, like… You. All ‘Life is fun’ and ‘I can get all the girls I want’, and stuff.”

  “So, you think I live a charmed life, is that it?”

  She didn’t want to insult him again, but- “Yeah, I suppose.”

  He lifted a brow and made a face. “It’s not as easy as I make it look. Regardless, that’s my excuse for my behavior, though I realize it was inexcusable. Forgive me?”

  After a kiss like that? Hell, yes! “I guess I could. Just so you know, I have reasons for the way I acted, too, and I’m sorry if I added to your ‘insecurities’ because of them.”

  “Forgiven,” he said, then let out a harsh breath before glancing at her. She easily read the desire in his eyes, but just as easy to see was the doubt and the need to take a step back.

  Before he could, she asked, “Wanna go for a swim?”, just to show him she was on the same page. She’d never expected to have even a kiss from him, so she wouldn’t ruin it by being clingy or needy for more.

  “Yes!” he said, obviously grasping at the excuse to separate.

  They stood to remove their over-clothes, each carefully avoiding looking at the other. Drake hooked up the ladder and dove in, followed closely by Evie.

  They swam for a little while, then got out so Drake could surprise her with the picnic he’d prepared.

  “Pretty sure of yourself, weren’t you?” she asked with a raised brow.

  “No. Hopeful, though? Definitely.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I felt like a dick for the way I went after you last night. I wanted to apologize.”

  She smiled. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to come up to me and just say, ‘Evelyn, I’m sorry I was a dick’?”

  Now he smiled. “Maybe. But I figured this way, you couldn’t go anywhere if you didn’t want to listen.”

  S
he bobbed her head in consideration. “I guess, from your standpoint, that makes sense.”

  He pointed at her with his sandwich, as if to say, ‘See?’, and she couldn’t help but grin.

  After lunch, they each grabbed a fishing pole, and stood side by side, talking about topics each considered neutral territory- sports, movies, books, TV- and both tried very hard not to think about the kiss though it was foremost on their minds.

  Standing in the sun had them both hot enough to go for another swim, so they jumped in once more. By late afternoon, they were ready to return to the house, tired and hungry.

  As Evie drove back, Drake reclined on the seat closest to her so they could continue the conversation they’d been having.

  “So you’re telling me that this woman physically tortured you for her own amusement?” Evie asked as she steered toward the dock.

  Somehow, they’d gotten on the topic of crazy exes, and while it might be considered by some an odd conversation for two people getting to know each other, neither of them thought anything of it.

  “No, not for her amusement. For her pleasure. She literally couldn’t get there unless I was in pain. Or she was.”

  Evie’s eyebrows lifted. “Wow.”

  Drake stood and went to the gate to help dock the boat. “I mean, I’m not judgmental about what people are into sexually, and I’ll try just about anything to get a woman off if she lets me know she wants it. But I draw the line at whipping- like, legit whipping, not the fun, playful kind- or slapping her around.”

  Evie could only stare at him as he explained. What the hell had he been doing for his adult life?

  “What?” he asked when he noticed she was staring at him.

  She blinked. “Nothing. It’s just a little hard to believe, that’s all.”

  “Tell me about it,” he said as he offered her his hand to help her from the boat. She took his fingers after the barest of hesitation, and followed him to the house. Once inside, he said as they separated, “Just let me shower, and I’ll make you a steak that’ll have you praising me as the god of beef.”