Kieran just shakes his head. He knows I’m clowning around to get his attention. And he doesn’t even seem to mind.
“Let’s practice,” I suggest. “On you.”
His chuckle is low and deep, and I feel it against my chest. “I would if I could. But I have a call with an admissions officer at Burlington U in ten minutes.”
“Oh!” I wrap an arm around him. “Is this it? Did you get into the class you wanted?”
His brow furrows. “Not yet.”
“Then what’s the call for?” I sit up to give the man some space. He’s so tolerant of my clingy nature. He’s still gruff and a little hard to read. But he also seems starved for physical affection. And I sure don’t mind providing it.
“Well, she’s trying to talk me into applying for the undergraduate degree program. She said I’d be eligible for financial aid, and every class I took would be half price or less.”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner!” I clap my hands. “Sounds like a plan. What’s the catch?”
“It’s more work,” he says slowly, and those eyes I love so much grow worried. “I’d have to take two courses at a time instead of one.”
“So? Zara already agreed to cut your hours in the new year.” Besides, nobody works harder than Kieran. He could slice through two design courses like a sharp knife through butter.
“But they’ll grade me,” he says with a shiver. “I’d have to do well to keep my financial aid. That means taking the tests instead of just listening from the back.”
“Oh,” I say softly. And now I understand the issue. Kieran had planned to audit these classes the way that he does everything—thoughtfully but silently. If he’s taking the courses for credit, he’ll have to raise his hand, or even—gasp—contribute to a group project.
“And do I really want to be a twenty-five-year-old freshman?” he asks, sitting up beside me. There’s confusion in those lovely brown eyes.
Yes you do, I realize. The question wouldn’t be troubling him at all if he didn’t understand the benefit.
But I won’t push him. My strong, silent-type boyfriend doesn’t need someone to order him around. Instead, I ask a couple of crucial questions. “What’s the commitment?”
“Two classes, starting in January.”
“And how long will they last?”
“Well, the semester goes until May. But a degree would take me eight years at that pace.” He laughs. “Can you imagine?”
The thing is that I can. Kieran loves design. He should get the chance to find out what it’s like to surround himself with other design nerds. “So you’re saying that it’s only a four-month trial. If you hate it, you can stop before the strawberries are ripe. And you’d still have the benefit of those two classes.”
He opens his mouth to argue with me, and then shuts it again.
“Look, I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to tell you how to plan your life, because I’m pretty bad at planning my own. But this is an opportunity, not a problem. I never got to try music school. And I’ll probably always wonder what that would have been like. Here’s this nice lady who’s offering you a shot. Just think about it.”
He rubs his forehead. “I just wanted to ease into it.”
“Uh-huh.” I grin.
“I’m terrible at trying new things.”
I reach out a hand and pat his firm chest. “Gotta call bullshit on that. You tried me in bed. And on the rug. And in the shower…”
He snorts. “Fine. Sure. It only took me eight years after I first thought about you.”
“Good point,” I concede. “And you’ll be seven years older than the other freshmen. So you’re right on schedule.”
Kieran laughs, turning his head to the side in that way that he does. As if laughing were a private matter. And it’s just as well, because a full-on smile from him is hotter than the sun.
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” he mumbles. Then he reaches out and takes my hand. And when his fingers close over mine, I feel like I won a prize. “What are you doing today, anyway?”
“Taking a run. Testing out a recipe for shortbread cookies.” His eyes brighten at the mention of cookies. “Trying to decide how many holiday cookies I can bake in the next ten days. I thought we could let people buy in bulk, and pull in some extra cash.”
He tilts his head. “If you’re not careful, you’ll end up making cookies all night, every night.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad.” I shrug. The truth is that I’d rather be indispensable than well-rested.
Everything in my life is going so well right now. My job is working out, and my new man is the nicest guy in the world.
I’m basically just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It always does.
Kieran
Pratt and Son Advertising Agency is slammed because Christmas is a’coming, and everyone wants to glam up their promo imagery with bows and glitter.
Honestly, it’s boring design work. I can’t wait until the holidays are over.
“Kieran,” Mr. Pratt barks. “Can you redo this Christmas tree? The client doesn’t like all the ornaments. They’re too busy.”
Ornaments? I take the page out of his hand, and what I see there makes me feel ragey. Once again, Deacon has taken my nice, crisp design and mucked it up. “There shouldn’t be any ornaments at all. Ask Deacon to delete that layer on the source file.”
“He’s gone for the day,” Mr. Pratt says. “Could you handle it for me? Thanks.”
I look down at the pile of other requests on my desk and nearly snap. But I’m distracted from my misery when my phone lights up with a message.
Roderick: Hey! I think you forgot to defrost that chicken I was supposed to cook. It’s still in the freezer? We could get takeout instead!
That’s all it takes to make me forget all my work troubles. Because Roderick is home and thinking about cooking our supper, and part of me is already there with him.
I don’t even recognize my life right now. It’s full of hot meals and couch cuddles and blowjobs. We eat together every night now. After dinner, we watch TV on the couch, until Roderick leans in to trace my ear with his tongue, or lifts my T-shirt up to kiss his way across my abs. And then—after we exhaust ourselves—we curl up together in my bed and pass out. He sleeps spreadeagled on the bed, limbs everywhere.
Every morning, when his alarm goes off at some unholy baker’s hour, he rolls over and hugs me before getting out of bed. His sleepy hand trails though my hair, and I feel his warm chest against my ribcage as his knee hooks over mine. Clumsy with sleep, I reach over and give him a quick squeeze. He kisses me on the jaw and leaves, but I can still smell his skin on the sheets after he goes.
Having Roderick in my life is like having a fire in the hearth. He warms me even when I can’t see him.
A couple years ago I watched my cousin Griffin fall head over heels for Audrey. The two of them were so right for each other that I wasn’t even envious. But I thought—that will never happen to me. Now I wonder if I was wrong.
Too bad I’m too distracted by my man to defrost a chicken.