Page 60 of Special Delivery

It’s an email. From Martha.

“Shit.”

As if she’s able to see me, I quickly cover my naked torso with a sheet, clicking on the email.

Love the article, Paige. I’m so glad to see you’re back on the right track. Just keep it up.

A deep breath escapes my lungs, along with a hundred pounds of tension I’ve held. I know it’s a good piece, but it’s also not fully what she asked of me. After my conversation with Ryan, I realized he was right. I had no desire to write cheap, review-style columns. Especially not on the topic of sex toys. So, just like I did the first time, I wrapped the topic up in a gorgeous, shiny piece of decorative paper and placed a giant bow on top of it. I focused more on the comparison of sensations between the toy and the real thing. I focused on the raised pulse, the swimming thoughts, and the burning belly that appeared each time I saw Ryan, and on how deeply the toys fell short in that way.

Thank God, my boss liked it.

Maybe I could do some work in the garden today. Writing my next piece would be the sensible option, but I deserve a day off.

I pour myself a thermos of coffee, tie my hair into a messy bun, and exit my house through the back door. The day is stunning, with bright rays of sunshine making their way onto my covered back porch, and birds chirping melodically from the trees. I lift the bench where I keep my garden tools and extract a pair of gloves, a small trowel, and a pair of shears.

The ground is soft beneath my knees as I weed the flower bed. The methodic movements, combined with the warm glow of the sun on my skin, empty my mind. It was one reason Jordan and I relocated here. The peace, the quiet. The sound and the smell of nature. Something that was foreign to us while we were in the city.

Even though my mind is in a better place, my body still reminisces about my time with Ryan. I know it by the tingle in my core and my pulsing nipples. I know it by how my chest heaves with more than exertion. Soon, my empty mind fills with not quite thoughts, but images and visions of slick, naked skin, taut muscles, and hazy, hooded eyes.

I convinced myself I don’t want anything resembling a romantic relationship, but even a mere taste of him was enough to put my resolutions to the test. Can I really condemn myself to a sexless life?

“Shit,” I whisper as I realize I’ve just pulled out a flower instead of a weed.

The poor California Goldenrod deserves more than to fall victim to my distractedness, but she’ll get to live another life in the compost. I sit back on my heels, running a forearm over my damp forehead, before taking a glove off and sipping coffee from my thermos. It’s a beautiful day, but since my neck is already burning, it’s time to get out of the sun.

Slipping the other glove off, I return my tools to the bench and take a seat on my lounge set. Just as my ass hits the thick cushion, the doorbell rings. My ears perk up, trying to discern if it’s my doorbell, but another ring lets me know it is, in fact, mine. With a huff, I lift from my newly found seat.

Who the hell is it?

There’s a thin sheen of sweat covering my face, and my hair is a mess, but I’m also not expecting any guests.

My eyelids blink in place when I open my front door. I’m fairly certain Ryan is standing there, in that attractive delivery guy uniform, but it’s best to blink a few more times, just to be sure.

“I didn’t order anything.” Is the first thing my mouth blurts out when I realize it’s really him. Have his eyes always been that gray?

“Hello to you, too.” He smirks, holding a regular brown box in his hands.

“Hello.” My lips pull into a smile. “I still didn’t order anything. And, as you can see, I wasn’t expecting anyone.” Despite the fact that my attire of dirt-covered yoga pants and t-shirt couldn’t be less ready for guests, my lower parts are ready to welcome him in.

“You’re not going to invite me in?” He leans in my doorway, and the flex of his biceps makes me bite my bottom lip.

“I…”

“Paige, darling,” a shrill voice booms out. “You got a delivery?”

I jump away from Ryan as if he’s on fire, noticing Linda waving at me, dressed to the nines. “Erm, yeah. I ordered something.”

Ryan’s eyebrow rises, saying, “Did you?”

I shoot him a panicked look, hoping it conveys, “Please don’t let her realize we know each other, I’d never hear the end of it.”

By some miraculous force, my message works. “Don’t worry, I just came to drop this off for you.” His voice is quiet enough that Linda doesn’t hear, and I let out a relieved breath.

She exits her own driveway, making her way into mine. With a parting smirk, Ryan tips his cap to me. “Ma’am. Hope you have a nice day.”

“Y-you too.” I take the package from him and watch him get into his truck and drive off.

Why was he here? What the hell did he bring me?