Page 24 of The Weight of Love
She laughs, and her eyes are dancing with amusement.
“No, sir. We’re just friends. Pie is the most you’re getting out of this. And that is my fruit pie. Riley loves it, too.”
Silence stretches out, and my mind wanders to the idea of licking pie off her. Friends do that, don’t they? Seems perfectly logical. I break the quiet, shifting gears. “Riley’s pretty awesome. I met her recently. Graham’s got me helping out with volleyball coaching.
We chat about video games, and I suggest one I think her son might enjoy. Gradually, the silence returns, now thick with unspoken tension.
“So, you got your pie. Have you satisfied your inner Dean Winchester?”
“Never, but he is my favorite from that show. I was rewatching it earlier.”
She laughs that easy, casual laugh, but it brings such a warmth to her face that I feel myself getting sucked in again.
Stop…friends. Just friends.
“Let’s watch it. Where’d you leave off?”
She’s in those skin-tight yoga pants she always wears at the gym, a Detroit Lions sweater that hangs off her shoulders, showing off her collar bones, and her hair is down in curls the way it starts out in the gym.
She’s beautiful without trying. No makeup, nothing crazy with her hair. And in nothing but casual clothes, she still stops me in my tracks.
“You should stay.” The moment the words are out, I cringe internally. Nice one, Slick.
“Oh?” Her eyebrow quirks up; curiosity mingled with... something else.
“I just mean, it’s late. The roads are a nightmare with deer and hogs around. It’s safer not to drive. You take the bed; I’ll crash on the couch. It’s just to keep you off the roads,” I hurry to explain.
A flicker of disappointment crosses her face, and I’m at a loss. Is she upset about the safety concern, me taking the couch, or something else?
“You’re probably right about the deer. I saw about eight myself on the way over.”
“Yeah, it’s a beautiful drive by day but risky at night.”
“Okay, thanks then. I’ll stay. But really, you can have the bed too. We can leave plenty of room for Jesus in between if it makes your morals feel better. It’s a king-size bed; I don’t take up that much room.”
Her offer hangs between us, challenging and a bit playful, disrupting my well-meant intentions with something far more tempting.
Easy for you to say. I’m the one we need to worry about keeping my hands off you.
“Funny.”
“You’re the one with the moral crisis.”
“You’re really stuck on that.”
“Just trying to respect your boundaries.”
She’s utterly captivating. She scoots closer and curls up against me. I shift to lean back, and she rests her head on my chest.
I absentmindedly play with her hair as she runs her hand slowly back and forth across my abs. I keep willing her hands to dive lower, but she stays above the belt, tormenting me.
“Seriously. How are you single?”
“Well, my gym sessions are my therapy these days, but before that, my therapist thinks it’s because I haven’t found a guy capable of stepping up and taking the lead. I hadn’t ever thought about it, but she was right. My exes are all pretty weak, morally, in terms of work ethic, and just in terms of their personality in general.”
I can see that, actually…damn independent streak in her is enough to drive anyone insane. But who doesn’t like the challenge? They must all be idiots…
“So, really, you’re just keeping it casual until you find someone who can handle your ass?”