I know I’m at the right place since his truck is parked out front, and there’s no mistaking the large man in the door opening.
My mouth goes dry and my hands get sweaty.
Jay
Figures.
All week the weather has been nice and today it starts raining and my culinary talents begin and end with my ability to grill. Now I don’t normally mind a bit of rain—it’s rare enough—but I don’t usually have a guest I want to keep close.
The moment I hear the crunch of wheels on my driveway, I head for the front door with the towel I just grabbed from the linen closet. I don’t own an umbrella and I couldn’t get the big one on the back patio for shade out of the damn base. A towel will have to do the trick.
Unfortunately, Meredith is already getting out of the car when I start toward her, just as the steady rain turns into a downpour. By the time I get to her the towel is thoroughly wet and likely doing more damage than good when I raise it over her head. Never mind that my own clothes are soaked.
“Well, son of a bitch,” she mutters beside me as we rush to the front door, our feet splashing.
Standing in the hallway, in rapidly forming puddles, she bursts out laughing.
“And here I was fussing about what to wear,” she confesses with a grin. “That was a waste of energy.”
I watch as she takes off her glasses and uses the hem of her equally wet shirt to try and dry them off.
“Would’ve been a waste of energy anyway, you look good no matter what you have on.”
She tilts her head to the side and regards me with those green eyes sparkling with humor.
“Good to know my efforts were wasted.”
“That was a compliment,” I clarify, as I toe off my wet sneakers.
“I know. I’m still getting used to those.” She shrugs and slides her glasses back on her nose.
“Well…” I slip my hand behind her neck and brush a kiss on her slightly parted lips, “…apparently I’m not very good at giving them. Guess we’ll both have to learn.”
“Mmm.”
My cock stirs at her contented hum. It’s a good sound, almost a purr, and my mind instantly conjures up the different ways in which I could get her to her hum like that.
“Let me grab a few more towels and some dry clothes.”
I leave her standing in the entryway and rush to grab what I need. It gives me just enough time to get my body back under control before I maul her, barely over the threshold. By the time I get back she’s ditched her boots and is stripping off her socks. The cute red toenails are a surprise.
“You’re going to be swimming in them, but at least they’re dry.” I shove a couple of towels, some sweats and a shirt in her hands. “Second door on your left is a bathroom. I’ll toss the wet ones in the dryer.” I point and watch her tiptoe down the hall, leaving a trail of water in her wake.
After a quick mop of the tile floor and a run into my bedroom to change into dry clothes myself, I find her staring out the back door by the kitchen. I feel a stir seeing her in my clothes, even though they hang off her body.
“It stopped,” she announces without turning around.
The back of the house faces the Animas River and with only a barn off to one side, there is nothing obstructing the view. A watery sun is trying to break through the remaining cloud cover, causing a wispy fog to rise up from the wet land. Maybe there’s hope for my planned dinner.
“Where are your clothes?”
I moved up close behind her and a visible shiver runs through her when I speak. She turns and indicates the pile she left on the kitchen floor, right by the door to the laundry room.
“I figured that might be your laundry but I didn’t want to pry. I can put them in the dryer.”
“I’ve got it.”
It takes me two minutes to shove her clothes and mine in the dryer. When I come out of the laundry room she’s still standing where I left her, this time taking in my living space. While I watch, she walks over to the large fireplace open to both the living and dining areas and runs her hand over the stucco. It’s the feature that sold me on the house two years ago when I went looking. That and the barn, the small paddock behind it, and the horses out in the field.
It had been a ranch and belonged to an older couple, but when arthritis made it too difficult for the husband to keep up, they sold it. I’d been keeping my eye out for a place I could see myself living for a good long time and was lucky enough to get this. I was getting tired of the typical bachelor apartments and row houses I’d been limited to over the years, and for once in my life I could afford better.
“Your house is beautiful.”
Glad to know she’s able to see beyond the old furniture I still haven’t gotten around to replacing. The same old ratty couch and old coffee table I dragged all the way from Boston.
“I like it.”
She faces me with that slight tilt to her head. “The horses yours as well?”
“One of them. The large, dark gelding. The others are boarders.”
One of her eyebrows lifts.
“How do you manage to look after them when you have a job that is so unpredictable?”
“I have help. Carlos looks after the horses and maintains the property. He lives in the loft over the barn.”
She walks back to the window and looks to the left where I know she’ll probably see Carlos’ beat-up truck parked behind the barn, next to the old tractor which came with the property. She swings around and shakes her head.
“I drove past twice coming here because whatever I expected, this certainly wasn’t it. How can you afford it on a cop’s salary?”
From anyone else a question like that would piss me off—part of the reason why I don’t invite people over—but oddly it’s not offensive coming from her. Meredith is direct, to the point, and she doesn’t hesitate to ask when she is curious. It’s what makes her great at what she does, and a large reason for my attraction to her. No guise, no manipulations.
My hesitation in answering has nothing to do with her, and everything with me. The truth is, I’m embarrassed to tell her.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” she mutters, uncomfortable with the stretching silence. “I’m prying where my nose doesn’t belong. I’m sorry.”
I cover the distance between us in two steps and place my hands on either side of her neck, lifting her chin with my thumbs so she has no choice but to look at me.
“No, you didn’t,” I assure her, locking my eyes with hers. “It’s just something I’m not proud of.”
I realize how that sounds the moment a shadow passes over her face.
“Oh.” She turns out of my hold and takes a few steps toward the kitchen.
“I’m not proud of it because I swore when I left home at eighteen, I’d make my own way. My father used to believe money was the way to rein me in. Until I walked out the door with nothing more than my clothes and a vow I’d rather starve than accept a single penny from the family.”
I run a hand over my face and turn my gaze to the view of the river.
“I broke that vow three years ago when my grandmother left most of her estate to me. To say my father was pissed would be an understatement. He was livid.”