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Marin: I was wrong. You are a dork. Need me to bring anything?
Donovan: Spiked heels, head-to-toe vinyl, and a vat of Crisco.
She blinked, and her phone buzzed again.
Donovan: For me, of course. I look great in vinyl and my shoe size is 13.
She snorted and caught her reflection in the mirror, surprised at the bright-eyed, smiling woman looking back at her. This is what Donovan used to do to her—make her forget anything but the moment. That guy was still in there. He was giving her a peek.
Marin: Don’t mess with me, doc. That’s not playing fair.
Donovan: Who said I played fair?
That sent a little hum through her.
Donovan: Just bring you. That’s all I need.
The words were simple, but they had her heart picking up speed. This was going to happen. She and her near-virgin self were going to step into this world with Donovan. That got her nerves working again. And, of course, she couldn’t do things halfway. No, she’d been the dumbass who’d been all, Oh, no, we don’t have to go slow and work our way through the basics. We can just go straight to kinky sexy times. Yeah, no problem. That shit had definitely been her sex brain talking. She wanted those things—in her head at least. But now that the possibilities were staring her in the face, she worried she’d stepped out of the plane without a parachute. Out of her depth didn’t even begin to describe it.
But she took a deep, calming breath, reminding herself that she could always say no, that Donovan would respect that, and then she texted that she’d be there on time. But she barely managed to get her makeup on without her hands shaking.
By the time she was knocking on Donovan’s back door, her stomach was in knots and she was thanking the universe for the inventors of antiperspirant. She also was working hard to not blush every time she thought about what might happen between them. Despite her rampaging libido, her body’s automatic reaction to thinking about all things sexual was still plaguing her.
But when Donovan swung open the door, greeting her with an easy smile and wearing jeans, a soft-looking gray T-shirt, and nothing on his feet, she could feel the heat rising in her already. Sometimes she could trick her mind into seeing him as “just Donovan”—her co-worker, a guy she knew from college, a man she was learning from. But at times like these, it was impossible to ignore the sheer impact of him. The beauty. The maleness. Strong shoulders and lean body, dark blue eyes that saw right into you, and a smile that made things twist inside her. He even had nice-looking feet. Who had that?
“Come on in,” he said, pushing the door wide. The smell of oregano and garlic wafted out. “I was just about to grab the pizza out of the oven.”
She stepped inside the yummy-smelling kitchen, trying to will down the visceral reaction she’d had to seeing him like this—casually dressed in his own place. She’d never seen him in any setting other than a work one. She tried to focus on the surroundings, anything but the tall sexy doctor next to her. Donovan’s place was similar to hers, but had only one story and had been styled with a more modern vibe. More a bachelor feel than cozy cottage. “Smells great in here. Did you order from Gio’s? Nate’s going to try their pizza tonight.”
“Nope. I made my own. Well, I cheated a little. Gio’s sells their dough. So I keep some in the freezer. My mom used to make homemade pizza on Friday nights, so I’ve stuck with the tradition.” He hitched a thumb toward the counter. “Want something to drink? I have soda, bottled water, and merlot.”
Marin leaned against the counter, warmed by the fact that Donovan had held on to his mom’s tradition even when most Friday nights he was probably cooking only for himself. It gave Marin a pang for her own mother. Her mom had been a mess much of the time, but there’d been good times mixed in, times when the three of them had piled onto the couch, eating junk and watching movies, laughing together. Her mom could’ve been amazing. If she’d had time and money to see the right doctors, find the right medication balance, get the right help. If Marin had been there to stop her that night and put her in a hospital. Marin swallowed past the jolt of grief. “Uh, wine’s good.”
Donovan frowned as he pulled a bubbling pizza from the oven and set the pan on the stove. “Hey, you okay?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, fine.”
“You went somewhere for a second.” He tugged off his oven mitt and uncorked the bottle of wine.
“I was just thinking that it’s nice that you hold on to some family traditions. I didn’t have a lot of those growing up. I’ve tried to create some with Nate, but it’s easy to get too busy and forget about those things.”
He handed her a half-full glass. “You raised a kid while you were a kid. I think you get a pass if some minor details got dropped in that kind of juggling act. And I bet you have more traditions than you think. Your brother would probably be able to name a bunch you don’t even realize. I remember my dad used to wash his car on Sunday mornings. He’d let me scrub the tires. To me, it was this really cool one-on-one time I’d get with him. But he would’ve never labeled it a thing. You don’t know what’s going to imprint on a kid.”
She took a sip of the wine. “No, I guess not. Your parents sound like they were pretty great, though. I’m sorry you lost them.”
He stepped over to the stove and turned his back to her. He grabbed a pizza cutter and ran it through the pie, his shoulders stiff. “I guess I should be thankful I had them at all. I know many aren’t that lucky. It was just hard to accept that two people could be wiped out of existence that easily. Parents seem like this permanent fixture when you’re young. But obviously, nothing’s permanent. Anything and anyone can disappear at any time.”
She frowned. It was a fatalistic way to look at the world even if it was technically true. But she wasn’t going to call him out on it. She’d lost a parent, too. She knew how fragile life was. “Did they ever catch the person who did it?”
He put two slices on each plate. “No. The case went cold years ago. I have a private investigator working on it now. The cops tell me I’m wasting my money, but I have to at least try, you know?”
“Of course.”
He turned back to her, two plates in hand, and smirked. “So, ready to sample my mad cooking skills and talk about something way less depressing?”
“Definitely. We’re not breaking any shrink stereotypes, are we? I’m here five minutes, and we’re talking about our childhood tragedies.”
He cocked his head toward the small round table in the attached dining nook and she followed him over to it. He sat the plates down and pulled out a chair for her. “I think you’re just trying to distract me from the topic we’re really supposed to be talking about. Nothing can ruin a sexy mood like dead parents.”
