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"Of course I don't blame you." He gave a huff of laughter and pressed his lips to her head. "I blame Gregory. Yet another grievance to file if I ever do meet him in person. He cost me a night of smoking hot sex with a gorgeous woman."
"I promise I'll make up for it." She pressed a kiss against his neck and started to pull away. "I guess I should probably get going." As much as she hated the idea of going back to her mom's house to crawl into her bed alone, asking him to take her to bed and simply hold her was out of the question. It would cross a line somehow, violate the boundaries of their all-too-loosely defined "relationship."
He kept his arms around her. "You don't have to go just because we're not going to have sex."
Based on the conversation they'd had earlier, she should definitely leave if they weren't going to have sex, but his arms felt too good around her for her to remember exactly why.
"What are we going to do then?"
He lifted his head, a dimple flashing in his cheek as he grinned down at her. "I don't know. Talk? Play a board game? Oh, I know," he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I've got about four hours of Southpark on my DVR back at my house. What do you say to a little comic relief?"
Even as her sensible thirty-year-old self questioned the wisdom of taking him up on his offer, the fourteen-year-old boy in her who never met a fart joke he didn't like gave an enthusiastic yes.
He got in his truck and she followed him in her jeep the half mile down the ranch road to his house. It was set a hundred feet or so off the road and was surrounded by cottonwood trees, so she didn't worry too much about anyone seeing her car parked out front.
Though she couldn't make out much in the dim glow cast by his porch light, she was familiar with the white, two-story craftsman style house. There had been many gatherings at both her parents' house and this house when JT's parents lived here.
He waited on the front porch and reached out for her hand as she came up the steps. He opened the door and snapped on the entryway light as she stepped inside.
She kicked off her flats as he put one heel, then the other in a bootjack to pull off his boots. She followed him on the familiar route to the kitchen and took him up on his offer of a glass of water. "I've also got vodka and soda if you want something stronger."
"I don't have to work at the hospital tomorrow. Why not?"
"And it's not like my work requires a whole lot of brain power, so I'll join you."
The kitchen opened up into a dining room, the large living room situated beyond that. As he grabbed two glasses from the bar cart in the corner of the dining room and filled them with ice, she took in the changes the house had undergone since she'd last visited.
The kitchen had been completely refaced, the gold linoleum floor replaced with pale gray slate tile. The cabinets, which she was pretty sure were original, had been stripped of their dark stain and painted white. Gone were the Formica countertops. In their place he’d installed smooth white stone with gray flecks that complemented the flooring.
The carpet in the dining room and living room had been pulled up, and now wide plank hardwood floors were decorated with wool rugs.
"The house looks great," she commented as she followed him into the living room. A comfy looking sage sectional dominated the room and was positioned to provide an unhindered view of the other most prominent piece of furniture in the room: JT's massive flat screen television.
"Thanks," he said looking around at the furniture, the rugs, the framed prints by various western artists hanging on the walls, as though trying to see them from her eyes. "I moved in two years ago. I think it was weird for Mom and Dad though, when I hauled away most of the furniture they'd left here and ripped up the carpet. They understood pretty quick that I needed to put my own stamp on it."
He set their drinks on the low wooden coffee table that sat in front of the couch and motioned for her to sit. "Although Mom still hasn't forgiven me for putting a TV in the living room instead of the den upstairs."
Colleen smiled and shook her head, remembering when they were kids how they would all cram into the small dark room and fight over what to watch. "Call me uncultured, but as far as I'm concerned, a room without a TV is a room that doesn't get used."
"Girl after my own heart." He grinned. "You mind if I go change real quick?"
"Of course not." She could hear his muffled footsteps as he walked up the wooden staircase off the entryway in his stocking feet. Floorboards creaked above her as he moved around his bedroom. She heard the water run and realized he must be taking a shower.
She took a sip of her drink and sat back against the couch cushions. Even though she'd been naked in front of him dozens of times in the last few weeks, sitting on his couch fully clothed while he showered and moved around in his bedroom felt somehow more intimate.
The nights they'd spent tangled up together in the tiny cabin, even the conversations they had in the bar, were somehow removed from the rhythms of their everyday life.
But to be here in his house, among his things, while he went about his evening routine, implied a level of closeness she knew she wasn't prepared for.
Before she could heed the voice telling her it had been a bad idea to accept his invitation, his footsteps thumped down the stairs. Within seconds he was cutting through the dining room into the living room and settling on the couch next to her.
He had changed into a pair of loose gym shorts and a University of Wyoming T-shirt that had been washed so many times the once-brown cowboy mascot on the front had faded to the color of sand.
He grabbed the remote from the coffee table and slung his arm over her shoulder. Any doubts she'd had about the wisdom of coming here tonight faded into the background as she was overwhelmed by the clean, soapy smell of his skin, the softness of his T-shirt against her cheek, the warmth of his thigh through the fabric of his shorts where her hand rested against it.
He pushed a few buttons and pulled up the list of recordings. He hadn't been kidding. Under South Park, there were a dozen recordings with titles like, "Wieners Out," and "Member Berries."
"Where do you want to start?"
