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“I believe it’s something you don’t want anyone to see,” she says. “But I doubt that it’s as bad as you think.”
A minute later the smell of sizzling breakfast permeates the entire basement. “So you’re really not going to tell me?” she says, putting a pout in her voice. For an obviously inexperienced woman, she’s certainly a natural when it comes to leading a man towards what she wants from him.
“I will tell you,” I say. “On one condition.”
“Anything,” she says in a halting voice, wondering if she may have offered too much. We’re both reminded that she doesn’t really know me.
“I want you to tell me who you’re running from. Or what, if that’s the case. And don’t tell me it’s Jarom. You could have knocked him senseless and then slept like a baby.”
Here is the test. She’ll either back off or she’ll try to come clean. Maybe she needs to unburden herself in the same way I do.
“You got it,” she says, turning back to the stove and whistling something tuneless. “Now be quiet while I cook. I’m not a morning person.”
I have no idea what to make of this woman, so I’ll just try to enjoy it while it lasts. Soon we’re sitting at the table and she’s digging in like she’s been in the midst of a famine, drought, and new ice age. I’ve never seen such an appetite, not even guys after a hard sparring session or weight cut, and I wonder all over again just what happened to her last night.
“Ahhh…..,” she says, finally pushing her plate away and leaning back. “You give me two minutes to digest and I’ll tell you anything you want.”
“That’s quite an offer.”
“I know.” She closes her eyes and smiles. It’s all I can do not to pull her up out of the chair and lay her down on the table before I have my way with her. Something tells me she would love it. Something also tells me that, even if we get there, it’s not quite time yet.
“Do you think Jarom made it back safely?” she says with a cute laugh. She covers her mouth with her hands.
“Oh wow, that guy. What was that all about, anyway?”
She opens her eyes. “Well, that’s going to tie into the question you asked me. You know...the running away. I’ve been running, sort of, from someone and something. Jarom was a symptom, not a cause. He’s a photographer at The Inner Eye. He’s good, too, at photography. Not much in the social skills department. Or romance, for that matter. Not that I’m any sort of romantic prodigy, but Jarom needs some real help.”
“I find it hard to believe that you’re not a romantic genius. I mean...you carry yourself like you know what you’re doing.”
“Well, you flatter me, but you might be surprised. But Jarom...he had a crush on me forever. I knew it. Everyone knew it. I just couldn’t let it happen.”
“Why not? Nervous, frail men not your thing?”
“Ha! That might surprise you too. It wasn’t just that. Jarom was sweet until he got possessive. I noticed it in the beginning of our trip and it only grew. I never saw anything from him like the way he acted when you saw us. It was scary. But before our trip, he was just dorky and awkward. I can look past dorky and awkward. If you ever see my bookshelves you’ll see.”
Oh, I hope I get the chance, Sam.
“But I was with someone. Even if I had been interested in Jarom, I was with someone. It feels a little strange opening up to you about all of this since it’s been barely 24 hours since we met, but I guess something about this also feels a bit natural. Then again, that could also be last night’s drinks talking,” she said with a giggle.
Man, even her laugh is sexy.
“And this is who you’re running from?” Part of me wanted to hear that she was fleeing from a maniac who had threatened her. That I understood. And it would give me a great chance to track him down, punish him, win her heart, make him apologize, etc. But another part of me prayed that no one else had to get hurt by me.
“I’m running from me as much as from him, I think. He was okay.”
“Just okay? What was his name? Not another Jarom, I hope.”
She took a sip of coffee. “No, his name was Owen.”
“Like Owen Meany? From the John Irving novel?”
“Honestly, Owen Meany would have been easier to deal with.”
“Even with the visions and the size and health and everything?”
“Even with those. Owen’s greatest fault was that…” She covers her mouth again and starts laughing so hard she turns red. I wait. “He had a really big...coin collection.”
Now I’m laughing with her. If this is an innuendo, it’s a weird one. “So, he was into numismatics?”
