She nodded as he kissed her softly on the lips and eased her to her feet. Being fucked against the refrigerator left no room for modesty, but she still crossed her legs and rested her hands over her exposed area as he removed the condom and pulled up his pants.
He grinned, nodding behind him. “I’m going to run to the restroom while you see if your panties have cooled down. Okay, hot pants?”
Rolling her lips between her teeth and closing her eyes, she nodded. When the door to the bathroom clicked shut, she whipped around and retrieved her panties from the refrigerator. She stepped into them and yanked on her yoga pants at lightning speed. The sex and panty retrieval warranted a hand washing before she proceeded to prepare the salad. Gunner sat by the back door looking at her.
“What?” She shrugged, daring him to make her feel guilty. The dog possessed an eerily accurate perception.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You could open that bottle of wine.” Playing he-didn’t-just-fuck-her-brains-out-against-the-refrigerator cool required effort, but she did her best.
He poured them each a glass. “You’re quirky … I like you.”
She laughed, keeping her head bowed, eyes trained to the cutting board. “Really? I think the fact that you asked to ‘swim in my pond’ and then your response after what just happened is to tell me that I’m ‘quirky’ makes you the quirky one.”
“You could be right. I think introverted people can be quirky.”
“You are not introverted.” She slid on the oven mitts and pulled the lasagna out of the oven.
“I am, actually.”
“Both you and Jillian have made reference to your habits with women before you moved here.”
He carried their wine glasses to the table. “I’ve always spent a lot of time on the computer or playing the piano, only recently did I start teaching lessons. Most of my social interaction over the years has been via the internet or quick lays.”
“Quick lays? Wow … that’s …”
“Honest. I told you I’m not good at sugarcoating.” He smirked. “Well, actually I’m pretty good with the women in my neighborhood.”
Ryn dished out lasagna and salad for both of them then sat across from him. “The quirkiness you’re referring to is just my nerves around you. I’m not really an introvert. At least, not by nature. I was very outgoing in my day.”
Shaking his head, he blotted his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t say ‘in my day.’ It makes you sound eighty.”
“Fine, pre-Preston I was outgoing. So basically as a teenager. I was in the drama club and got the role as Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. I worked at a daycare part-time after school and on the weekends, and I was an ambassador for Students Against Drunk Driving.”
“SADD, huh? For personal reasons or just because it’s a good cause?”
Ryn stared at her plate for a minute before shifting her eyes to him. “My older brother was killed by a seventeen-year-old girl who chose to get behind the wheel.”
“Ryn, I’m—”
She shook her head. “I don’t talk about it much. The driver was my best friend’s sister. We were thirteen when it happened, my brother was fifteen. He rode his bike home from a Friday night baseball game. We lived just two miles from the school. I was at their house that night. Her parents got a call from the hospital. She wasn’t injured it was more of a panic attack. Just as they were getting ready to pull out of the driveway to head to the hospital, my parents pulled in to get me because the sheriff had already delivered the news of my brother. In a matter of seconds everyone made the connection.”
“Jesus …”
“Yeah. I haven’t spoken to Heather since that night. We saw each other at school and she wrote me a few letters, but it was just too much.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’ve never gone to my class reunions in fear that she’d be there. Isn’t that ridiculous? I know … I’ve always known it wasn’t her fault, her sister’s the one who killed him, but it just hurts to be around her.”
Jackson moved his leg so it touched hers—intimate and kind.
“I’m sure she knows you don’t blame her.”
She nodded. “Anyway …” taking a deep breath then releasing it, she tried to smile “…sorry for the detour from my point, which is I’m not a born introvert so you cannot label me as quirky. Especially since I’m not the one who wears taped glasses. Which by the way I notice you don’t wear them all the time. Are you farsighted?”
Jackson looked down at his plate as he stabbed his fork into the lettuce. “Something like that.”
“I never asked. When you called, what did you want to show me?”
*
The self-professed introvert who occasionally wore glamour glasses, stared at the woman trying to hide her desolate expression. The subtleties in her appearance drew his attention: the way her hair looked messy and sexy at the same time and the way her brows peaked when she gave him a wide-eyed look every time she asked him a question. The tragic story still suffocated the air. Her question evaporated what little oxygen remained in the room. Was she not paying attention to the event that took place against her refrigerator?
That voice in his head, the one that guarded his testicles, yelled, “Man-up or maybe give her a little reminder of what you came to show her.” Sometimes it felt impossible to rehabilitate from the man he used to be. Perhaps a man who never entertained the company of a woman beyond sex could not be rehabilitated or domesticated.
“I washed Woody.” But he tried anyway.
“Oh …”
“Woody is my car.” Jillian would have been laughing her ass off.
Ryn nodded. “Well, I’ll have to take a look at Woody.”
Planting his elbows on the table, he dropped his head into his hands. “Jesus … why is this so hard?” He lifted his head. “I didn’t wash my car. That…” he gestured to the refrigerator “…that’s what I came over to show you.”
The unfamiliarity of giving a damn about what a woman thought, left him blind to the truth. Falling for her didn’t happen all at once. It took him without warning—an unsuspecting culmination of a hundred tiny things. In that moment it was the way her smile grew in minuscule increments until her whole face beamed with sheer happiness.
“I liked that. A lot.” She blushed but never took her eyes from his. “In fact, I’m okay with you coming over anytime to show me that.”
The same woman twice. That would be a first—a good first.
“Oh, here I have something for you.” Leaning to one side, he grabbed the black envelope from his back pocket and handed it to her.
“Black huh? This must be my belated birthday card.” She opened it.
“Shit. Your birthday. Well … no that’s not it. I brought flowers, remember? And then dinner—”
With a slight head shake, she tracked the words on the invitation. “You want me to buy sex toys?”
“What? No.”
Tilting her head, she pursed her lips. “That’s fine. You’re right. I probably could use some practice.”
“God … no, that’s … it’s … my neighbor invited you because she wants to meet you. Lascivio is the company Jillian works for.”