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He laughed. “No sex in the car. I thought lingerie was for taking off a woman, not putting it on her.”
“You can’t imagine both?”
That got her a big grin. “Driving, I’m driving here. How do we do the lingerie thing?”
“You can either pick online or we can go to a store.”
A quick surprised look in her direction. “Where you’d try it on for me?”
“Yeah. That’s one we could do after work.”
Fingers flexing on the wheel he said, “I’ll consider my options. What’s with the tearing-your-clothes-off coupon?”
That was all about a notion she had. “It’s a game, that’s all. I think it would be exciting to have you use your strength on me like that.”
“I’m too insecure about my size to be easy about you blowing me and you think I’m ready to tear your clothing?”
“You did let me. The once. And you don’t have to choose every coupon.” But God, she wanted him to. The idea of Tom, being playful enough, secure enough with her to be a little rough made her squirm.
“If I live through the lingerie-buying, I guess I can tear a T-shirt.”
“Attaboy.”
Ryerson Park was beautiful, but the fresh air went straight to Flick’s head, that and the sight of Tom striding out in front. He wore knee-length cargo shorts with pockets everywhere and boots that were the real deal, appropriately scuffed, and a T-shirt that showed the evolution of man with the words Stop following me in a cartoon bubble coming from the mouth of the human male and said to the ape, Homo erectus and Neanderthal walking behind him. In his cap and sunglasses, he was a carefree version of the Tom who went to work in crisp shirts and well-tailored suits.
The play of his calf muscles, the shift of his shoulders. She could watch him move all day and if he was going to walk so fast that’s what would happen—she’d never catch up.
Right as she had that thought, he came to a dead stop and waited. With the sunlight filtering through the trees and birds doing their thing, the scent of wood and damp fragrant earth in her nose, she lost her head and ran to catch up, snagging him around the waist like he was a pole and coming to rest pressed on his body, arms around his waist.
His grin was so quick and full it reached inside her and squeezed her heart. “You love it out here,” she said.
“It makes what I do out there—” he gestured out and away, back toward the city “—seem small and manageable. Hopefully all this will be here long after I’ve bitten it.”
“That’s how I think about lobbying for better legislation—it’s enduring, improves people’s lives and the society we live in.”
They walked for an hour without stopping, Tom modifying his stride so she didn’t get left behind again. She didn’t start a conversation because there were birds to listen out for, the crunch of their feet on fallen leaves, the breeze making the trees talk. They had the place to themselves and there was a kind of awe about that she didn’t want to spoil with chatter.
She was glad she’d put this on a coupon never fully appreciating what it would show her about Tom or how much she’d enjoy it herself.
This wasn’t a workout for him. This was his cathedral, his respite and his center of gravity. She’d thought it was the apartment, that he was house-proud, status-motivated and neurotic about it. That was wrong. There was a pendulum and Tom swung between the comfort of an ordered home he loved and the sprawling, untidy unpredictability of weather and the outdoors.
No, you couldn’t tell that from looking at him, or even from living with him for two months. Amazing what a coupon could do.
Next morning a coupon left on the kitchen counter instructed her to run a bath. There was something incredibly sweet about Tom choosing that coupon. He knew she might be sore after hours tramping around the woods. She wasn’t, but it was still considerate given the range of activities he had to choose from. He was out for the day, helping an old college friend with some household repairs, and Flick had her own chores to do, principal among them trying to find somewhere to live in Washington. The apartment she’d been short-listed for had been rented during the days she was vacillating about staying in Chicago. She had to start her search again.
She had a frustrating day, made less so when a text from Tom told her what time he’d be home. She made herself a sandwich and rummaged in her toiletries stash for bubble bath.
“Are you more a Deep Steep chamomile-and-lavender soak kind of guy or a Mr. Bubble Original, Tom O’Connell?”
Right on time, she heard the door. Tom made straight for the bathroom, where she was placing lit candles on the window ledge as the bath filled.
“Do you think we’ll both fit?” he said. “I’ve never used the tub.”
Half the fun was squishing together. “We’ll fit.” She lit the last candle and placed it on the hand basin. He switched the overhead light off and the room went shadowy, suddenly so much more intimate than when it was brightly lit that the excitement triggered by hearing him arrive home fizzed through her body like it was burning along a fuse wire. “How did the repairs go?”
“All done. Are you sore from yesterday?”
She added the Deep Steep to the flow from the tap, and they both watched the foam build. “No, you picked the right kind of walk to get
