Rey
To be clear: I really, really, really hope to try that again. With you. When you’re ready.
The anxiety she’d felt during the drive this morning, wondering what he’d expect to happen tonight and where they’d both sleep at his apartment, evaporated when she considered how worried this confession must make him. His tattoo, his shirt that said “My Other Ride’s a Blast” and the way he showed the world his C-legs by wearing shorts in November underscored his self-image. For him to reveal what magazines claimed to be a man’s biggest fear softened her, but his willingness to proceed at her pace, instead of at the speed she assumed guys as hot as Rey usually charged, eased the nerves that had tightened her chest.
Or maybe he knew that any woman would feel like a goddess to be told she was a magic cure. It was entirely possible he was campaigning flat-out to seduce her.
But that wasn’t necessarily bad. Under her jacket, her breasts still ached with the memory of his hands and mouth. She shiftedher feet, forced to stay in one place by the pump although the thrum of her unreleased energy made her want to vibrate. In college she’d accepted that she wasn’t a hookup girl, and the guys who were interested in women with her degrees and slow timetable weren’t generally men with vast seduction skills.
Rey was different. She touched her lips with two fingers. Even though her hand was cold from the metal handle and Rey’s lips had been hot, the slight pressure was enough to recall this morning’s kiss. Thinking about the strength of his arms and the pull of his mouth on her neck warmed her insides until her breath was visible in the November air.
The speed of her heartbeat told her that when she took the leap and said yes to Rey, being together was going to add up to more than great sex. Like the wake from a super-fast ship, repercussions were going to wash through her life. Instead of being safely ensconced on the east coast, he’d be in Salito, close enough to see on weekends. The privacy of texting every night would be replaced by navigating their relationship under the public gaze of a small town.
She hooked the nozzle into the pump at the same moment she saw Rey push open the convenience store door with his forearm, a coffee tray in one hand and the other gripping his cane.
Change was coming. She was driving at it instead of away.
Rey knew Grace musthave read his explanation while they were at the gas station. The paper cup in his hands had cooled to the approximate temperature of the air blasting from the defrost, but holding it gave him something to do that wasn’t replaying this morning. First, he’d overslept. Then he’d almost shattered her nose, but thankfully Grace didn’t know that.Worse, he’d shot his wad like a teenager and utterly failed to please her the way a man should take care of a woman.
“You know, I liked things this morning.” Out of the blue, she tossed an ambiguous statement.
Although he was a simple guy—more so since stepping on a mine had focused his life on basics like live, walk, run—his chick radar still worked. Sketchy sometimes, but functional enough that the way she formed that sentence, so hesitating and quiet, gave back a chirp.
“Good…” Her empty cup was stuffed in the holder. Like most women, she drank it milky, but usually without flavors to clutter the brew. It was the type of rhythmic three-word phrase that he was able to order for her at stops. “Coffee.”
“Not the coffee.”
Visual check of her smile confirmed what he’d heard in her voice. “Bacon?” They’d stopped at a diner near the motel.
“Not the bacon. And before you ask, not the eggs.”
The lilt in her voice demonstrated she was teasing too, and he wanted to speak the way he always had, offer her a song and dance—dancing, that was something he still had to try again—and sweep her into bed to show her he could last the whole race. “So. Liked toast?”
“Not the toast.” She didn’t take her eyes from the dotted lines along I-40 as pink rose to her cheekbones. Even though she blushed over everything, she wasn’t thinking about toast.
“Rest?” He meant,Would you like to take this exit, park at a rest stop or somewhere quiet and make out?Maybe in the old days they would’ve hiked a scenic trail to find privacy. In that fantasy she’d marvel at a squirrel or scenery the way women did, and he’d spout nonsense about her hair or soft skin until she opened like a blossom.
She misunderstood. “We’ll cover the rest by three.”
They were driving back to the life of the old Cruz. With a stab in his gut, he wondered if that Cruz would have paid attention to a quiet woman like Grace.
If he hadn’t, he was an idiot who deserved to be left in a canal.
Kentucky
Grace thought the housingat Fort Campbell was tidy, even the homes that had more kid gear than the school where her sister taught. Lawns and parking strips were mowed and edged to carpet-quality, flags flew next to doors and not one stray November leaf blew in the street.
Rey had been texting for the last half hour while she had followed signs and the navigation system prompts and tried not to dwell on who might be waiting at his apartment.
Two minivans occupied the parking pad, and two women stood on the sidewalk while a handful of children chased each other on the grass.
“Friends. Wife.”
“They’re your friends’ wives? Sure as hell better not be yours.” She winced. “Oops.” She’d said that out loud, and he laughed until she grinned too. “You make me talk to myself.”
“Good. Eave-eave-eave-drop.” While she reversed to align the rental car tires with the curb, he pointed to the blonde carrying a winter-suited baby on her hip. “Kris-tin. Cap-tain wife.”
“Wait a sec.” She could parallel park on a rainy December night on First Hill in Seattle, but not at a flat curb with a passenger and two women staring in judgment.
