Page 9 of Love Takes Home

“Take your time. I’ll be here.”

I close the door and look at the clothes. If they’re his, there’s no way they are going to fit. When I pull the top article of clothing off the stack, it’s a soft men’s shirt. And it looks big enough for me. I pull it over my head and it does, in fact, fit. It’s also super long and hits me on my upper thighs, covering all the bits. It also smells of pine and fresh air. The scent calms me even more, and my muscles that were still locked unknot themselves. The other article is a bathrobe, which I wrap myself up in. I open the door, wondering where I’ll have to look to find Joker, but he’s standing right there, his hands in his pockets, hunched in on himself.

“Are you okay now?” he gently asks, the usual gruffness in his voice missing.

“Getting there.” I take a big breath and blow it out. “See, full capacity now.” I try to smile, but it falls flat and I quit trying.

“Does that, uh, happen often?”

“I’ve had a few of them over the years, but I’m not usually wearing a forty-pound dress and shapewear under it.”

"Why were you wearing a forty-pound dress with that horrible shit under it?"

"Beauty is pain," I shrug my shoulder.

"Fuck that. Beauty is beauty. Pain is stupid."

I laugh. That is such a Joker thing to say. "Anything left of the dress?" I ask, knowing I shouldn't care.

“Yeah, about that. There’s no saving that. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry for losing my shit on you.”

He reaches out and grips my hand, pulling me back into the main room. It’s an open space, a kitchen along one wall and a massive fireplace along the other. The bathroom sits under a flight of stairs to what I can only assume are bedrooms. They run along a balcony, and there are four doors. I focus back on the living space and see something that makes me smile for what might be the first time all day.

“Is that?” I ask, pointing to the huge overstuffed couch.

“A couch exactly like Tiny’s?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It is. You didn’t think he found that beautiful thing on his own, did you? Someone with taste had to introduce him to a thing of beauty like that. Take a seat.”

I don’t have to be asked twice in this instance. I sit down in the corner, bringing my legs up under me and resting my cheek on my hand. Joker walks around the couch, standing behind me, and begins to pull the pins out of my hair. The tension on my head is removed one piece at a time until my hair is hanging down my back and over my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I tell him when he’s finished.

“No problem. Want a sandwich or something? I think there’s a pizza in the freezer.”

“That sounds great. I haven’t eaten since the dinner last night.”

He growls and mutters something I can’t hear before stalking into the kitchen area and pulling out two frozen pizzas. I watch him, my body finally fully relaxed and normal. I try to keep my eyes on him, but I have the overwhelming need to close them. For just a minute.

Maybe two.

Chapter 4

Joker

Ginny is asleep onthe couch. Exhaustion and the aftermath of the mother of all panic attacks will do that to a person. I’ve never seen her so upset, and she’s had a lot to be upset about since I’ve met her. She’s always been a rockstar in stressful situations, but this was different. I get it. The woman just ran out on her own wedding. We live in a small town and she’s a teacher at the high school. The reality is that people are going to talk. It doesn’t matter what side those people come down on, they are still going to talk. And if there’s one thing I know about Ginny, she hates the attention. Unless it’s her music. When she’s playing her cello, the world falls away, and she immerses herself in the chords and notes.

And as much as I’m trying not to think about her naked, my dick has imprinted the parts of her body I just saw and is playing it on a loop. Does that make me as asshole? Probably. It alsomakes me a lovesick fool who has had to hide his obsession with her for way too long. At some point, a person has to crack, right?

But her body. It’s perfection. Her neck begs for my kiss. Her breasts plead for my attention. Her hips hypnotize me with every sway when she moves. And even though I didn’t see it, her pussy is calling out to me to bury my face and make her scream my name.

“Get a grip,” I say to my cock, adjusting myself in the dress slacks I still have on.

The oven goes off, letting me know the pizzas are finished, when my phone rings. Davis.