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She cocks her head to the side. “Touché.”
“So, what do we do now?” I ask.
“I have no fucking idea.” But she laughs lightly as she says it.
“Since you’re not going with Aaron, what are you going to do today?” I start to gather my clothes I’ll need after my shower.
“I guess I’ll call my boss and tell him I’ll need some time off.” She looks everywhere but at me.
“You’re taking time off?” I figured she would just work from here.
“Why not? Would you prefer if I work?” I know she has been working late at night because I can hear her from the bedroom as she sits on the couch. The last two nights, she has been in the bed with me, though.
“I don’t really give a damn if you work or not.” She glares at me. “You did tell me to be honest with you, right?” I grin at her and motion from me to her and back again. “How’s this working for you so far?”
“I just…” Her voice trails off as she stops to think.
“You just what?” I prompt.
“I think taking a week or two of vacation would be a good idea.”
“So you do want to stay here.” I point to the floor of the cabin. “You don’t want to rush home.”
“Eli,” she says, “my best friend is dying, the futures of his kids are uncertain, and I have no idea what’s going to happen between me and you. I think that a couple of weeks with no distractions to work on these things is a good idea.”
“What’s your boss going to think?” Her boss is actually a nice guy.
“I’ll find out when I call him, won’t I?”
“I hope he’s up for it.”
“Well,” she says, “it’s just a job. This is my life we’re talking about.”
It’s our life, but I don’t correct her. “Okay, Bess,” and I grin when I realize what I’ve done. She picks up a scatter pillow and throws it at me. “You don’t have to get violent,” I say as I stalk over close to her. I make like I’m going to walk past her, but at the last instant I grab her and pull her close to me.
She freezes in my arms, but she doesn’t pull away. When I realize how still she is in my arms, I realize my plan to grab her and kiss the shit out of her was a bad one. Instead, I press a kiss, softly and slowly, against the tender skin of her cheek. I linger there and take in the moment. I revel in the hitch of her breath and the quickening pulse at the base of her throat. I take it all in, absorbing it. She doesn’t shove me away.
Then I leave the room.
I look back at the last moment though, right before I walk out the door, and I’m pretty sure she’s grinning like a damn fool. “See you later, Freckles!” I call out as I go out the door.
“Whatever,” she mutters back at me. But she’s still smiling, and I like that.
Hell, I like her, and I haven’t liked her in a really long time.
31
Bess
I don’t cook often, but when I do, I like to listen to music. I turn it up as loud as I can and then I dance around the kitchen while I cook. It’s something I used to do all the time. When Eli and I first moved in together, he came home from work one day and scared the shit out of me by walking up behind me and grabbing me while I was dancing. He ended up with marinara sauce dumped over his head and dripping down to ruin his favorite shirt. After that, he always announced his presence.
I raise the large wooden spoon to my mouth like it’s a microphone and sing into it, shaking my hips to the beat of an old song from the nineties. I don’t know why, but it was on my mind, so I downloaded it from a streaming service just so I can listen to it on repeat over and over while I cook.
I spin around and freeze when I see Eli standing in the doorway, his shoulder hitched against the doorjamb. I expect him to give me shit about it but he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at me intently, almost to the point where it makes me uncomfortable. I reach over and turn the music down.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
