by Aly Martinez
Seriously, could my life get any more embarrassing?
Yes. The answer was yes.
“Do you still love him?” came from the other side of the door.
I screwed my eyes shut, hoping if I concentrated hard enough that I could disappear. “Oh, God,” I croaked.
His voice came from somewhere low, like maybe he was sitting down too. “There’s no wrong answer, Rita. I just want to know what I’m up against here.”
Jesus. This man.
Did I love Greg Laughlin?
Did I love Greg Laughlin?
Did I love Greg Laughlin?
“Love is weird,” I told the empty room.
“That’s not a no,” he replied, so soft that it was barely audible through the door.
And it wasn’t. It absolutely wasn’t a no.
It also wasn’t the whole truth.
I needed to shut my mouth, stand up, open that door, call a cab, and never look back. I had no business being on a date with Tanner Reese or anyone else when I couldn’t answer a simple question like do you love another man?
But as kind as he’d been to me, I owed him an explanation, even if I was such a coward that I said it from the other side of the bathroom door. “I didn’t have the best life growing up, Tanner. My mother had a pretty serious pill problem she refused to acknowledge. My brother and I spent most of our childhood in the back seat playing stupid games to keep ourselves entertained while she did God only knows what to score her next fix.”
“Shiiiit,” he rumbled.
“Sorry. I probably should have warned you tonight that I’m something of a Slapsies master. I had a lot of practice over the years.”
“Open the door, Rita.”
I was nowhere near ready to face him yet. “My dad was always around but never really around, if you know what I mean. He never had much, but Jon and I loved going to his house because he had a backyard we could run around in.”
The doorknob clicked like he was testing it again. “Rita, please.”
I shook my head and kept going before I lost my courage. “Dad married some woman and moved to Alabama when I was ten, leaving me and my brother behind with my mom, and never looked back.” I dried my eyes on the backs of my knuckles and laughed sadly. “And yes, I have been out of the dating game for a while, but I do realize this is not a first date conversation. At least not if you want a second date. But I needed you to have a little back history on me in order to truly understand my answer about Greg.”
His voice was sharper, more desperate, when he repeated, “Open the door, Rita.”
Ignoring him, I said, “Sometimes love isn’t a factor in whether you should or shouldn’t be with a person. And I can tell you with an absolute certainty that I should have never been and will never again be with Greg Laughlin. I made a stupid decision fueled by a shitty past when I married him. Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all. But when you told me about your kitchen, how you picked it out because it reminded you of home, a light bulb came on in my head. I think I made the decision to marry Greg because he didn’t remind me of home. And for seven years, I let him shape me into a woman I don’t recognize anymore, and I’m not altogether certain if I even like the person he made me. But I let him do this all because his version of me was so much better than who I thought I could be. Rita Laughlin with all her pearls and heels is nothing like the girl in dirty clothes in the back of that car, playing games with her brother.”
“Wow,” he replied, and it sounded a lot like sarcasm, making me feel even more stupid than I already did for confessing that to him.
I started to push to my feet, ready to bolt—to where, I didn’t know—but he suddenly stopped me.
His voice was thick as he stated, “I don’t know who I am anymore, either.”
I froze, turning my head to the door. “You?”
“Yeah. Me. I wish I could be the kid in my mom’s kitchen all over again. Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. But then I started hosting Simmer and shit got weird. I was no longer me. I was chef Tanner Reese, this freaking joke who took his shirt off on TV every week. The money is fantastic, but God, it’s such a head fuck. My parents weren’t like yours. They’ve been married for over thirty years and I think the only thing they love more than each other is me and my brother. And when you grow up like that, experiencing that kind of love up close, you assume that’s what you’ll have one day. It’s funny because I spent my twenties hoping I wouldn’t find that woman. I was out having fun, discovering who I was.” He chuckled, deep and sad. “I thought it was like a switch. When I was done living the fast life, I’d just flip the switch, find my wife, start a family, and settle down.” He whistled low. “Boy, was I wrong there. I know you’re just getting back into the dating scene, and I don’t say this to discourage you, but it’s a fucking blood bath out here. And for me, having a public persona, it’s a nightmare. My last girlfriend makes Greg look like husband of the year. She lied to me at every turn, sold intimate pictures of me to the highest bidder, and is currently in the works with a major publishing house to write a tell-all about our relationship. And according to a few leaked chapters, it’s a pure work of fiction, including some pretty detailed—and completely made-up—mentions of me, hookers, and cocaine that could potentially cost me my job at The Food Channel if my lawyers can’t stop her from publishing it first.”
My heart stopped. “Holy shit, Tanner. That’s terrible.”
“Yeah. But you want to know what’s worse? There’s a part of me that wishes she would publish it so I could go back to working at the restaurants and be regular old Tanner again.”
Suddenly, my stomach wrenched, and not only did I feel like a fool for hiding out in his bathroom, I felt like a complete and total asshole for how I’d been treating him. “Oh my God. I did that to you too,” I rushed out, chills exploding across my skin.
He laughed. “You writing a tell-all about our first date on toilet paper in there?”
“No, but I used you at the Fling to make Greg jealous. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t recognize you until after you had walked away. I just thought you were a really sexy guy who would make his blood boil.”
He chuckled, and I heard his head thud on the wall beside me. “Don’t worry about that. Grabbing your ass was not torture. Besides, I could see it in your eyes that you didn’t know who I was. I think that’s why I was so hell-bent on taking you out tonight. Stupid as it might sound, I was thrilled that you were using my looks to make him jealous rather than some societal fascination that deems me important because I’m on TV.”
My lips lifted at the corners in something vaguely resembling a smile. “TV or not, you’re a very good-looking man, Tanner Reese.”
“Douchebag Greg’s version of you or not, you’re an amazing woman, Rita Hartley.”
I sucked in a sharp breath at his use of my maiden name. It was something so small, but hearing it come from his lips (even from the other side of a bathroom door) made tears prick the backs of my eyes. “How do you—”
“I asked around about you after you took off today. You’ve got a lot of people who care about you in that office. They filled my ears with nothing but how great you are. Though stay away from Beth. She’s a raging hemorrhoid.”
The tears spilled out as a laugh sprang from my throat. “Yeah, she is.”
Neither of us said anything for several beats. What else was there left to say? Oh, right.
“I’m not ready to date yet,” I confessed.
“Don’t say that,” he grumbled. “Come on, Rita. There’s something here. I know you feel it.”
I did. Absolutely. But it changed nothing. “Maybe one day, we could… Shit, I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of stuff to work through.”
“So let me help.”
I scoffed. “You’re sweet, honey, but—”
“No buts. Look, I’ve got issues too. So many issues. I’ve actually been legally advised not to get into a relationship ri
ght now. But I really think we could be onto something here. Maybe it’s nothing and it will all fizzle over the next few weeks. But dammit, I want to try. Tonight was the most fun I think I’ve ever had with a woman.”
“Me too,” I replied before amending. “Like, with a man though.”
“You talking about me or Kevin?”
I sniffled and managed to croak out a sarcastic, “Obviously Kevin.”
“Smartass,” he muttered. “What if we just…take it slow. No strings. No pressure. Just two people having fun and see where it goes.”
“I can tell you where it’s going to go: up in flames.”
“Maybe. But maybe not. And I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had a lot of ‘maybe not’ people in my life. So all I’m asking is that you say okay and spend some time with me. Who knows? Maybe I’ll run you off the good old-fashioned way by leaving my toenail clippings on the coffee table or forgetting to flush the toilet.”
“Okay, ew.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have a housekeeper.”
“Housekeeper or not, toenail clippings are my hard limit, Tanner.”
“Then I vow, right here and now, to never clip my toenails again.”
I scoffed. “I’m not sure that’s helping your case.”
He laughed again and it felt like I’d been wrapped in a blanket. “Say yes,” he urged. “Nothing serious. We don’t even have to call it dating. We’re just two unspeakably sexy people who enjoy sarcasm, staring contests, and Slapsies and also happen to like holding hands and hanging out.”
I smiled, allowing my chin to drop to my chest. All of that did sound pretty great. Maybe I was fighting this thing with him because dating was a scary word for me in my current predicament. But “hanging out” sounded manageable. And hanging out with Tanner? Well, that sounded amazing.
I didn’t tell him any of that and instead retorted, “The alliteration in that sentence made my head hurt.”
“For the record, only one of us likes grammar jokes. And spoiler alert: It’s not me.”
I barked a laugh. Yeah. Spending time with Tanner would not be torture.
“Say yes,” he pressed.
Fuck it. What could it hurt? I’d smiled more that day than I had in months. And that’s including before I’d found out about Greg’s affair.
I’d had fun with Tanner. I had a lot of shit headed my way over the next few weeks and probably months until my divorce was finalized. It’d be nice to have a little fun mixed in.
“Okay, but we keep it casual.”
He quickly replied, “I can do casual.”
“Then…okay. I’m in.”
His voice smiled as he repeated, “Okay?”
“Yeah, Tanner. Okay.”
He blew out a loud exhale. “Good. Listen, now that that’s settled, you gonna come out of there so I can hug you and then show you my hammock, or should I just put my hand up to the door so we can do the prison glass palm-to-palm thing?”
And that was the exact moment when I realized that Tanner Reese was more than a good guy.
He was one of the best.
Laughing, I stood, dusting imaginary dirt off my dress. I glanced at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red rimmed, and my mascara was streaking my cheeks.
I definitely looked like I’d been crying.
But for reasons that were almost as magical and hypnotizing as Tanner’s hand-holding abilities, the hollow ache in my chest had disappeared, so I didn’t feel like I’d been crying anymore.
Before opening the door, I used my fingertips to clean up under my eyes. It didn’t do much to fix my face, but I couldn’t bring myself to care what I looked like anymore.
I was just me. Take it or leave it.
And Tanner had made it clear that he wanted to take it.
I found him in the hallway, still wearing his suit, sans the coat and tie. His back was pressed against the wall beside the door, and his long legs were stretched out in front of him.
“I knew the hammock would get you,” he teased with a megawatt smile as he climbed back to his feet.
The moment he was fully vertical, I moved into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my face into his chest.
One of his hands went to the back of my head, his other arm hooking around my waist. But it was his lips at the top of my head that sent the warmth radiating through my entire body.
It wasn’t exactly a kiss.
It wasn’t exactly not a kiss, either.
But whatever it was… It was incredible.
“I’m glad you told me all that,” he murmured into the top of my hair. “I’m always here to listen if you want to talk, Rita. Even if you need to do it in my bathroom.”
I smiled into his chest. God, how was he not running for the hills after that? And how was I not engulfed in a fiery inferno of embarrassment, but rather comfortably engulfed in the warmth of his arms?
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied.
We stood there, in the middle of his hall, holding each other in a simple embrace that was more intimate than I would have thought a hug could be a mere twenty-four hours earlier.
But twenty-four hours earlier, I hadn’t known the wonder that was one-named Tanner.
He kept his lips in my hair in the kiss/nonkiss as he said, “Can I ask you something?”
I snuggled in closer. “Yeah.”
“This goes against casual.”
“Already? God, you are terrible at this.”
He chuckled. “Spend the night.”
My body got tight, but he kept going.
“I’m not trying to get you into bed. I just don’t want to take you back there tonight. Your ex is a douchebag, and while he might be harmless, I don’t like the idea that he was waiting for you to get home. I’ve had enough crazy exes to know that is seriously uncool.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I need to change the locks.”
“You really need to change the locks, babe. But there’s nothing you can do about that tonight. So stay. I’ll give you a T-shirt to sleep in and everything. It’s a really good one too. I hear someone famous once wore it.”
I tipped my head back and rested my chin on his chest. “Any chance I can just get one of your T-shirts instead?”
His eyes flared before they hooded. “Fucking hell, that man is an idiot.”
And then I lost sight of him altogether.
Because his mouth came down on mine.
His lips swept mine before pressing in deep. It wasn’t a wild and frenzied kiss filled with scorching passion. His head didn’t slant. His mouth didn’t open.
It was soft, simple, yet overflowing with complexities.
Slow and gentle.
Painfully brilliant.
And, as I was learning, it was pure Tanner.
When he pulled away, he dropped his forehead to mine, his lips curling up into a lazy smile. “Is that a yes?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s a yes,” he murmured, coming in for another all-too-chaste kiss.
Did I want Tanner to sweep me off my feet, his mouth sealing over mine, his hands roaming my body as he pinned me to the wall right there in the hallway? Probably more than I should have.
But there was something inherently nice about having him hold me. No pressure. No overthinking. No considering if I should or shouldn’t. There was no right or wrong.
There was just us.
I don’t know how long we stood there, his blue eyes boring into mine, my greens straining not to blink.
He finally relented and looked away. “I’m never going to win one of those, am I?”
I shrugged. “Probably not.”
My stomach swooshed as he found my mouth again. This time, I only got a lip touch—albeit a pretty spectacular one.
And then he backed away, caught my hand, tucked it into the crook of his bent arm, and led me outside.
His hammock was better than mine—but only because he was in it with me.
* * *
I was on my back, one leg outstretched on the hammock, one foot on the ground, gently pushing against the wooden slats to keep us swaying, and the most content smile I’d ever felt stretching my lips.
She’d fallen asleep over an hour earlier with her head on my shoulder, her front snug against my side like we were two puzzle pieces, and her legs wound around mine in the most uncomfortable way possible.
But I didn’t dare move.
If I did, she would have stirred, purring like a kitten before tipping her head up to sweetly kiss the underside of my jaw.
I’d purposely done it a few times, my chest tightening with each touch of her lips.
And then it had become too much.
Predominantly, because it wasn’t enough. Nowhere close to enough.
I wanted to wake her up and force her to keep talking. I wanted to kiss her again, this time sweeping my tongue with hers. I wanted her on top of me, flush head to toe. I wanted to trace my fingers over every inch of her body as she writhed beneath me.
I wanted as much of her as I could possibly get.
But not at the risk of losing her.
She wasn’t ready for what I wanted from her. But I’d wait.
For Rita… I. Would. Wait.
Because over the last few hours, as I’d held that unbelievable woman at my side, talking and laughing, getting to know each other until she finally fell asleep, she’d done it with her head on my shoulder, her front snug against my side like we were two puzzle pieces, and her legs wound around mine in the most uncomfortable way possible…
And with her hand over my heart.
Not my abs.
I’d always heard that it was the little things that mean the most in a relationship.
And, in that moment, I understood that more than ever.
Her hair was a mess.
Her makeup was smudged.
She was wearing my T-shirt, baggy and loose. She hadn’t tried to tie it up into something sexy.
She hadn’t asked for a tour of the house.