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“No, I found it in one of the old cowboy rooms, and I was using it to clean.”
Nice try. Valiant effort.
“Dad, why are there crackers and salami on the floor?”
Jesse tries to sound exasperated. “I just told you I was in the middle of cleaning!”
“Whatever. Can you move so I can get my Funyuns out of the pantry?”
“They’re not yours if they’re in my pantry.”
“I know, but your staff has been stocking Funyuns here since I was a kid, and it’s only continued, so can I please have my Funyuns?”
“No,” Jesse says.
I can’t take a second more of this. I switch on the light, locate the Funyuns, and step out of the pantry, chucking the bag at a shocked and horrified-looking Nate.
“Muriel?”
Both Jesse and I shout, “Mariam!”
Nate picks up the bag of Funyuns off the floor. “Fine! Whatever. I see that I’ve interrupted your…uh…date. I’ll show myself out.”
Jesse and I watch as Nate slouches out the kitchen sliding door rather than march back to the front door, evidently eager to get as far away from the two of us as possible.
* * *
The best thing—well, one of the best things—about being with Jesse is talking through the awkward shit.
After I help him clean up the kitchen—after much protesting from him that I should not lift a finger—we toss our sticky clothes and my wrecked undies into the washer and then chat in the upstairs shower.
“I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of your son. I couldn’t listen to it anymore,” I say while Jesse washes Nutella and hummus out of my hair.
I swipe a loofah, sudsy with green-smelling soap, over his chest.
“Embarrass me? It’s me who’s sorry for putting you into that position. We shouldn’t get all hot and bothered in the kitchen anyway.”
Regret creeps into Jesse’s expression as he squeezes and rinses the shampoo from my hair. He’s so adorable when he concentrates. Adorable and sexy.
I sigh, slapping his ass.
“Ouch,” he laughs. “What was that for?”
“Don’t do that to yourself. Nobody can tell you not to have sexy time in the kitchen in your own house, where you live, alone. Provided you neither have houseguests nor leave your blinds open. This is your house.”
We are silent for a moment while he takes the loofah from me and cleans the sticky bits off my breasts and tummy.
“That’s true,” he says.
“Right. So stop with the dad guilt. He’s a grown-ass man. Do you want to know what the actual takeaway is from this incident?”
I watch the warm spray send rivulets of water down over Jesse’s ridges and contours, down to the patch of hair on his pelvis. What I would not give to be a drop of water in this shower right now…sigh.
“What?” Jesse asks.
I punctuate my words with a gentle index finger poking his massive chest.
“Change. The. Locks.”
