“I always am.”
“In your dreams. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up and assess the sky for signs of rain. The sky is clear but for a few errant white wisps, and Ihop on my trusty old Schwinn and coast down my driveway. I normally love the five-mile ride to the Sackey’s in Arlington.
This afternoon, my stomach roils. I should have skipped that smoked salmon and egg sandwich from Tatte after my run this morning. Or maybe it’s the thought that this could be my last Sunday performing what’s become a bit of a ritual. I normally walk my bike up M Street until I get to Dean and Deluca’s where I often stop to pick up something for dessert and then ride rest of the way.
Today, M Street is packed with tourists and locals out in force to take advantage of the beautiful, almost perfect, summer day. The sidewalk is crowded so I hop on my bike and join the vehicle traffic that trudges up M Street at a snail’s pace and think about what I’m going to say when I get to their house. I keep reminding myself that it won’t be the end of the world if she says no. It’ll just feel like it for a while.
Every Sunday, she drops her lush ass into the seat next to mine at her parents’ dining room table and the rest of the world disappears. After we share an amazing meal, the two of us break off from the group, find a quiet corner, and catch up. I get a firsthand exclusive on everything she’s got rolling around in that incredible mind of hers. She asks for advice about work. She gives pretty good advice herself. Only when I ask for it. My life is full of people who have an opinion on what I should be doing. It’s nice to meet someone who sees that I’m capable of managing things pretty well on my own.
We’re different in the way the two sides of the same coin are. Every Sunday, I discover something else I have in common with her. Where I am regimented, cautious, and believe in practical, well-reasoned wisdom, Sin is chaotic, audacious, and dangerously clever.
I’m not sure I’ve met anyone with as much mental horsepower as her.
There’s no denying the chemistry between us. It’s true that I’m a lifelong admirer of small-breasted, round-hipped, brown-skinned women who play hard to get and are stronger than they look. It’s a specific, but bountiful demographic. But my attraction to Sin has moved so far beyond the physical and denying it has turnedmeinto a ravening beast.
If we don’t fit, I’ll move on.
I’ll have to stop coming to Sunday dinners for a while. It makes my stomach hurt to contemplate it. But there’s no way I could sit next to her wanting her like this and knowing for certain she doesn’t want me.
Like I conjured her, headlights land on me as she pulls into thedriveway.
I swallow my nerves, slide my helmet off, and prop my bicycle up.
I wave and wait for her to climb out of her car. She looks good enough to eat and is dressed in a pair of tiny denim shorts and oversized black t-shirt. Aside from the generous display of her sexy-ass legs, it should be an unremarkable outfit. But she’s got a gold chain belt cinched around her waist that makes it look like high fashion. But then, Sin could elevate a sackcloth.
“Hey you,” she walks over grinning and rises up on her toes to give me a hug. She’s soft and smells sweet.
It takes all of my strength not to palm her ass and hold her still when she pulls away.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks.
“I like your belt,” I say with a nod at it, not answering her question as honestly as I can.
She puts a hand to her waist and narrows her eyes up at me in suspicion. “Are you making fun of me?”
I shake my head in wonder and fall into step with her as she heads for the front door. “Why is it so hard to pay you a compliment?”
She shrugs and digs in her purse. “I don’t know,” she says without looking up. “I’ve been like that. Compliments are as comfortable as an itchy ass.”
I bark in surprised laughter. “Why do you know what an itchy ass feels like?”
“Oh please.” She gives me a side-eye as she slips her key into the lock and wrestles with the notoriously sticky deadbolt. “Don’t act like you’ve never not wiped as well as you should have and—ugh. This door.” She shoves it with her shoulder and her hair sways in front of me. I catch the scent of something sweet. I lean in a fraction and take a deep breath just as she’s rearing back. Our bodies collide.
She yelps in surprise and whips around to glare at me.
“Why were you standing so close to me?” she snaps.
“I was trying to help,” I lie and take a step back but extend my hand. “You want me to try?”
She purses her lips and turns back to face the door. “No, they need to get it fixed and keep putting it off.” She presses the buzzer three times. “Maybe if they have to come down and answer it enough times, they’ll finally fix this lock.”
She crosses her arms, a satisfied smile on her face as she turns to face me and leans against the door.
The door opens with a sudden give that sends her tumbling backward, her arms pinwheeling.
I step forward and place a steadying arm around her waist and use my heel to kick the front door closed.
She straightens, and I sniff the air around her. “What?” She lifts her armpits and sniffs. “Do I smell?”
