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I blink a little in surprise.
“Good?”
“Yeah. Like I said before, I’m not looking for anything right now. Official or otherwise. I just…” Lizzie shrugs. Color blooms along her collarbones. “Look, I like you. Physically. I like sex with you. I think we’re good together and I want to keep on…” she waves a hand in a circular motion, apparently too modest to find the right words.
“Giving each other mind-blowing orgasms?” I offer.
Lizzie laughs.
“Yeah, as you say. I want to keep doing that. But…” She levels a stare on me that has me freezing in place. “I don’t want anything emotional. No relationship. No feelings. It doesn’t have to be a secret unless it’s easier for you that way, but I’m also not going to call you my boyfriend or even my fling.”
Wow. Talk about defining your terms.
For a moment, I’m left to deal with an odd sense of disappointment that is entirely out of place. After all, this is exactly what I want. Is it just some weird social bullshit that makes it harder to hear from a woman?
Lizzie had already mentioned that she wasn’t interested in my saving her from her grief. That her interest is purely physical. Had I been fearing that would change after she’d shared my bed?
Geez, Walker, get over yourself.
“Right,” I nod. “In which case, we are entirely on the same page. Temporary is all I can do right now.”
“Even if it means seeing me around after whatever this”—she waves a hand between us—“is done with?”
“You might be back in New York, by then.”
Lizzie rolls her eyes at me, hands once more on her hips.
“We’re back to that again? Would I be buying this place if I wasn’t set on staying?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “I definitely trust actions more than I do words, so it’s a step in the right direction. We’ll see.”
Lizzie shakes her head at me, as you do with an old dog who refuses to learn a new trick; frustrated but affectionate. She drops the point, however, and turns her focus on the house.
“Speaking of actions, I think we’ve done well today. Why don’t we call it and get some of those pork chops on the grill for dinner?”
My belly answers for the both of us and the loud rumble it emits settles the matter. We clear up and clear out, leaving the house a whole lot lighter but at least secured with Lizzie’s brand new house key.
“I don’t know much about home renovations,” Lizzie admits as we haul our aching bones into the truck, “but we just have those two walls in the front parlor left to do, right? I’m thinking, a few hours of work tomorrow and we could be fully cleared by Monday?”
“Um, I’ll be in Gatlinburg most of tomorrow.”
It speaks to Lizzie’s nature that she’s instantly contrite. A hand flies to her mouth, her eyes widen and her voice is full of apology.
“I’m so sorry, of course. I forgot you would need to see your mom.”
“I can shuffle some things around—”
“Don’t you dare! You should see her. The house will wait.”
The level of defiance in her voice has me shutting up and the cab turning quiet as I pull out onto the main street and head up north through town.
“Did you want some company?”
“What?” I glance at Lizzie, awkward under the depth of knowledge in her eyes.
“When you go to see your mom, I mean. You want some company?”
“Um…”
