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“You’re distracting.”
“Mmhmmm. You’re a captive audience.”
“I’m always a captive audience for you,” he said, smiling as he glanced over at her.
He pulled into her driveway, this time pulling all the way back to her little cottage. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment before he pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car to open her door. Together, they walked silently up to the front door.
“Come in and finish dessert with me,” she said. She held up the cheesecake box and raised her eyebrows at him.
His eyebrows lifted, and he inhaled sharply. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, Lesley,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly.
She opened the lock and pushed the door inward. “I think it’s a great idea,” she said, walking inside and out of view.
Antony hadn’t been past the entryway of Lesley’s house. It was a line in their relationship that he’d been keeping as solid as if it were made of brick. If he stepped over the threshold, and if he closed the door, he’d not be leaving before morning. He’d been careful so far and had made taking things with Lesley slow a priority. Those little voices that he’d been working on for so long had calmed down, and new ones urged him to take a chance.
Lesley. She was solid. Strong in places he wasn’t. Her actions at the museum had kept him on an even keel, and even though her other actions at the restaurant had thrown him off balance, it was only in the best of ways.
“Well?” she asked, her head cocked to one side. She was holding two forks and the box. Unicorn slippers adorned her feet.
He stepped the rest of the way through the door and closed it behind him, flipping the lock.
The floor plan of the small house was open. The living room and kitchen made one large space. Lesley had set the dessert on a wooden coffee table in front of a squashy brown leather couch which faced a small fireplace. It was dark, and the primary source of light came from over the kitchen window, and another coming from a room around a short corner. She crouched down and busied herself with lighting the tinder under the stack of wood she’d obviously placed in advance.
“I heat more with fire than gas,” she said. “So don’t think this is solely for your benefit.” She winked at him, and the flames caught.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said dryly, and sat down.
She stood and walked over to him, curling up next to him on the couch. Antony looked down at her slippers. “Not what I expected,” he said.
“Christmas gift,” she answered. She handed him a fork and opened the box, digging in with her own and taking a bite.
He watched as her eyes closed with pleasure and smiled. Finally, he dug in himself.
They made quick work of the cheesecake, and Antony leaned back, one leg kicked up on the couch. Lesley curled up next to him, tucking into the crook of his arm and laying her free hand on his waist. He idly stroked her shoulder through her sweater and the two of them watched the fire in silence.
Antony woke up to darkness. The room was cool, and a dim, red glow shone from the hearth. He was warm, at least the part of him that was covered with Lesley. Her breathing was slow and deep. He’d been expecting the night to take a far different turn, one that he wasn’t sure if he was ready for. Sure, the physical part was raring to go. The mental part was what he wrangled with. Seeing Vicky earlier tested him, and he was pretty sure he passed. At one point, if she’d have shown back up into his life, it would have emotionally wrecked him. He debated on how much of his reaction was because of therapy and how much came from having Lesley there with him. There, in the dark he could be honest. His reaction came from the work he’d put in, though Lesley had been amazing when faced with that rude surprise, and he was damned lucky she forgave his oversight of not telling her. Dr. K. had been right. He needed to get a move on, but the nerves were still there. One thing was certain—for tonight, as long as he had her sleeping soundly with him, he was going nowhere.
He reached up and tugged on the blanket that draped across the back of the couch. With a little maneuvering, he got it across the two of them well enough. Lesley stirred, and he slowly rubbed her back and kissed her on the head. She shifted a little, which gave Antony a bit more room to settle in. Soon enough, he fell back to sleep.
***
Antony woke to the smell of coffee and the noise of someone trying to be quiet. He cracked open an eye and looked around. Nothing. He lifted his head and saw Lesley walking away from the fridge, her arms full of breakfast items.
Lesley had also changed from her clothes the night before into bike shorts and a hoodie. She was busy in the kitchen, cracking eggs into a bowl.
He sat up, wincing at the pain in his leg. He regretted sleeping with his prosthetic on but curling up all night with her was worth it.
Concern washed over her face as she looked at him. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Bad idea to sleep with the leg on. Today might suck a bit.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’ve got a bag and a crutch out in the car.” He stood and flinched. Sore, but manageable for this task. “Lemme go get them so I can take this off, unless you’d prefer I not.”
She gave him a sidelong glance, her brow furrowed. “Antony, don’t be silly. I’ve seen amputees before.” She looked down at his leg. “Do you want me to go grab your things?”
“Okay, okay. No. I got it, just give me a few.” He stood up, bearing most of the weight on his right leg before taking a tentative step. Yep, this sucked. He limped out to his car and came back in with his gym bag and a hands-free crutch. He hobbled to the bathroom and found that Lesley had laid out a towel and washcloth for him.
