the week after next, so it’ll be a nice relief at the end. Friday night?”
“Anytime, handsome.”
Matt
I lay in bed, the quiet so loud it was an entity. Jenny and I had connected my electronics, but I wasn’t interested in what played on my flat screen on the dresser across the room. My gaze skimmed over what she’d referred to as an accent wall. Painted burgundy, it held two large black and white prints of exterior park staircases. She’d left the rest of the walls white, like we’d done in the living room. Color without being obtrusive. Hell, she’d even found a dark red bedspread to match. Brown candles for the dresser.
Rising, I padded into the adjoining bathroom and surveyed my surroundings. She’d been a little work horse. I’d seen her changes when I’d showered after she’d left, but I couldn’t stop wandering around. Partly because of the changes and mostly because her absence from my house after a week in close proximity felt like a void. I’d gotten used to having her here. A few hours, and I missed her something fierce.
She’d turned my parents’ summer vacation house into my home. I didn’t even recognize the place. Personal touches I never would’ve thought of, and all were...me. I loved them. Tasteful, but not overstated. Bold enough to be masculine, yet inviting. I roamed through the second floor, taking in the guestroom and other bathroom, then headed toward the gym.
Figuring I’d walk off some energy on the treadmill, I stepped inside and came up short. Far as I knew, she didn’t have plans for the room. Guess I was wrong. The walls were still white, but she’d hung a few pictures. One being a shot of feet running on the beach. Another of legs hiking through a forest. A third of arms reaching overhead with mountains in the backdrop. On the empty wall was a shelving unit that held folded white towels and a mini-fridge full of water bottles and sports drinks. Next to it, a sound system from my old house. My treadmill, rowing machine, and weight bench sat in the middle of the room, evenly spaced apart and all facing the small window—where she’d hung gray curtains.
I shook my head. She was an answer to an unspoken prayer, that was for sure. I had no idea how I’d ever repay her for this. Between the move, starting work at a new location, memories of this Seasmoke house and other events from a couple years ago, I’d been a bit of a wreck. I liked routine, lived by it as if a code. Jenny had managed to understand that and took action. Appeased my anxiety. No one got me like her.
And I’d almost fucked up everything. Luckily, she’d been forgiving of my mistake.
Giving up on working out—it would only keep me awake, anyway—I wandered back to my bedroom and flopped on the bed. Memories of kissing her floated to mind and I pressed my palms to my eyes. They came anyway. The soft firmness of her lips. Her heady scent of shampoo and warm woman. The exquisite needy noise she’d made in her throat. How her lithe body had fit against mine. Her taste, like red wine and dark desire....
Hell. My body tightened in response, wanting her.
I’d shut down my desire back as a teenager. I could do it again. There was no alternative. I’d made a mistake two years ago with someone like her and I couldn’t go there a second time. Especially not with Jenny. There was too much at stake, and the thought of hurting or losing her made my bones ache and my stomach bottom out.
Mentally, I went through things I needed to accomplish this week before starting work the following. The menial task worked to calm me and I finally started drifting to sleep. Until my cell rang.
I glanced at my alarm clock and then the phone next to it on the nightstand. Who’d be calling at midnight besides Jenny? Grabbing the phone, I checked the screen, not recognizing the number. I let it go to voicemail and waited. A few moments passed, and then a ding alerted a new message.
Curious, I punched in the code and
“Anytime, handsome.”
Matt
I lay in bed, the quiet so loud it was an entity. Jenny and I had connected my electronics, but I wasn’t interested in what played on my flat screen on the dresser across the room. My gaze skimmed over what she’d referred to as an accent wall. Painted burgundy, it held two large black and white prints of exterior park staircases. She’d left the rest of the walls white, like we’d done in the living room. Color without being obtrusive. Hell, she’d even found a dark red bedspread to match. Brown candles for the dresser.
Rising, I padded into the adjoining bathroom and surveyed my surroundings. She’d been a little work horse. I’d seen her changes when I’d showered after she’d left, but I couldn’t stop wandering around. Partly because of the changes and mostly because her absence from my house after a week in close proximity felt like a void. I’d gotten used to having her here. A few hours, and I missed her something fierce.
She’d turned my parents’ summer vacation house into my home. I didn’t even recognize the place. Personal touches I never would’ve thought of, and all were...me. I loved them. Tasteful, but not overstated. Bold enough to be masculine, yet inviting. I roamed through the second floor, taking in the guestroom and other bathroom, then headed toward the gym.
Figuring I’d walk off some energy on the treadmill, I stepped inside and came up short. Far as I knew, she didn’t have plans for the room. Guess I was wrong. The walls were still white, but she’d hung a few pictures. One being a shot of feet running on the beach. Another of legs hiking through a forest. A third of arms reaching overhead with mountains in the backdrop. On the empty wall was a shelving unit that held folded white towels and a mini-fridge full of water bottles and sports drinks. Next to it, a sound system from my old house. My treadmill, rowing machine, and weight bench sat in the middle of the room, evenly spaced apart and all facing the small window—where she’d hung gray curtains.
I shook my head. She was an answer to an unspoken prayer, that was for sure. I had no idea how I’d ever repay her for this. Between the move, starting work at a new location, memories of this Seasmoke house and other events from a couple years ago, I’d been a bit of a wreck. I liked routine, lived by it as if a code. Jenny had managed to understand that and took action. Appeased my anxiety. No one got me like her.
And I’d almost fucked up everything. Luckily, she’d been forgiving of my mistake.
Giving up on working out—it would only keep me awake, anyway—I wandered back to my bedroom and flopped on the bed. Memories of kissing her floated to mind and I pressed my palms to my eyes. They came anyway. The soft firmness of her lips. Her heady scent of shampoo and warm woman. The exquisite needy noise she’d made in her throat. How her lithe body had fit against mine. Her taste, like red wine and dark desire....
Hell. My body tightened in response, wanting her.
I’d shut down my desire back as a teenager. I could do it again. There was no alternative. I’d made a mistake two years ago with someone like her and I couldn’t go there a second time. Especially not with Jenny. There was too much at stake, and the thought of hurting or losing her made my bones ache and my stomach bottom out.
Mentally, I went through things I needed to accomplish this week before starting work the following. The menial task worked to calm me and I finally started drifting to sleep. Until my cell rang.
I glanced at my alarm clock and then the phone next to it on the nightstand. Who’d be calling at midnight besides Jenny? Grabbing the phone, I checked the screen, not recognizing the number. I let it go to voicemail and waited. A few moments passed, and then a ding alerted a new message.
Curious, I punched in the code and
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