I just nod and smile, and head inside. Usually the first thing I do is change out of my scrubs and into my pajamas, but I find myself resisting that idea, instead choosing to put together a snack plate of cheese and lunch meat and nuts, and pouring the wine. If I change into that outfit, it’ll spark a sexual chemistry conflagration I’m not sure I have the wherewithal to resist, and until I’m sure of what I want and what to do about Jesse and this thing, I need to back things off a little.
Audra told me to be bad, to be dumb and reckless, but I’m not the type of person who can entirely just throw all caution to the wind all at once. I have to be smart about being stupid. And so far, all I’ve been is stupid, letting my libido rule over my sense and sensibility: “If I could but know his heart, everything would become easy.”
Ha—Jane Austen, you were far too wise for your own good, lady.
Jesse clomps in the front door and into my kitchen, lifting the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his face, baring his hard, tanned stomach. He goes right to the sink and washes his hands and face—automatically, without even thinking, I hand him paper towel to dry his face.
He tosses the wadded paper towel in the trashcan and glances at me. “Awww. I was hoping you’d change into something a little more comfortable.”
I can’t help grinning at him. “I know. I’m sorry. But I think for right now this probably safer.”
He nods seriously. “You in those pajamas? Yeah, you wouldn’t be safe around me.”
I carry the snack plate out into the backyard, and Jesse follows me with the glasses of wine, and the bottle. When we’ve settled into our seats and have taken a few exploratory sips and bites, I glance at him. “So. You were going to explain why you didn’t call or text for almost a week?”
He nods, tossing a couple macadamias in his mouth. “Yeah, so what happened was, James got an emergency call from his cousin over in Indiana. Apparently their basement flooded and they had to gut the entire basement. James’s cousin called a local contractor to do the gut and remodel, and the guy fucked something up. I’m not sure how, but he compromised the integrity of the subfloor between the basement and the main level. I think he most likely took out a post that was load bearing. The whole living room floor started to cave in, so Aaron called James to come fix it, and in a hurry. James grabbed me and Ryder and we hopped in his truck and hauled ass over to Aaron’s house, some five and a half hours away in Evansville. We left directly from the Waverley site within ten minutes of the call. I had my phone in my pocket, but nothing else. Well, halfway to Aaron’s house, my phone dies. Not a big deal, right? James has a car charger. Only, it breaks. Kaput. So James’s phone dies too. Neither of us know your number by heart, and Ryder doesn’t have it. And then we get to Aaron’s house and get right to work. We literally worked around the clock, because that floor was about to go down like Humpty Dumpty.” He pauses for a sip of wine and to wolf down some cheese and meat.
“So. To make matters worse, James and I left both our phones in his truck, with the windows open. Aaron doesn’t live in the best neighborhood, and when we came out to grab something from his truck, both of our phones were gone. We worked around the clock for damn near seventy-two hours, barely stopping to sleep and eat. The second we got back, we both went to figure out our phone situation, and instead of calling you, like I said, I figured I’d stop by. I’ve been back from Indiana for less than a day.” He shrugs, eyeing me warily. “And that is why I didn’t call for you almost a week.”
I ruminate on his story. “Sounds plausible enough,” I say, keeping my voice neutral and my expression blank.
He frowns. “Why would I make it up? That’s what happened. I wouldn’t just vanish like that. I have a vested interest in keeping in touch with you.”
I can’t keep the smirk off my face. “I believe you—I’m just messing with you.”
“Ha ha frickin’ ha,” he says, sarcastically. “Got me.”
“So, what’s your vested interest?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Um…I like you? I want to see you? Hang out with you? Maybe even get you to go on a date with me?”
I nod. “I see.” I meet his gaze. “A date, huh?”
He nods. “A date. We could have dinner and go mini-golfing or something.”
I give him a baffled look. “Mini-golfing? What are we, sixteen?”
He looks sheepish. “I dunno, I don’t really do dates a whole lot.”
This sparks a load of questions and a hot bolt of suspicion. “Meaning?”
He shrugs, but he’s not looking at me. Instead he’s focused on the plate, where he’s a little too carefully rolling a piece of cheese into a slice of salami. “Meaning dates, like with flowers and manners and meticulously orchestrated events—that kinda stuff doesn’t factor into the way I do things.”
“So, in plain English, you don’t date.” I frown at him over the rim of my wineglass. “What do you do, then?”
He rolls a peanut across the plate with a forefinger, still not looking at me. “Um. Go to bars, usually. Find a good lookin’ gal, chat her up, and…you know. Have some fun.”
“So you hook up, and that’s it.”
He meets my gaze steadily. “Yeah, basically. It’s always worked out for me. I’m busy with Dad Bod Contracting and the occasional gig with my band, and don’t really have time for dating and all the BS that comes with it. Never saw the point, you know?”
“But you want to go on a date with me?
He nods. “I didn’t meet you in a bar, and you’re not that kind of girl.” He takes a long gulp of wine. “Look, Imogen—it’s obvious that the fact that I don’t date has thrown you for a loop, and I get it. But I’ve always made sure expectations are set out firmly in the beginning, so there’s no confusion later.”
“I see.”
“I keep things clear, you know?” He tosses a few more peanuts into his mouth. “I don’t do heartbreak.”
Oooh, ouch. That one stings.
I’m one big messy ball of heartbreak. I’m currently heartbroken, and on top of that, I’m lonely and desperate for attention and validation, which makes me ripe for even more heartbreak.
And Jesse is exactly the type of guy who would, unintentionally, break my heart even further.
I don’t know what to say; or rather, what I should say. What comes out is a probing personal question I had no intention of asking, but there it is, tumbling out of my traitorous mouth. “So you’ve never had a girlfriend?”
He doesn’t answer for a conspicuously long time. “I, uh…sort of. But that’s—I don’t—” He’s squirming, clearly not wanting to talk about it, but not wanting to say so.
I sigh. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He crushes a peanut between his thumb and the plate, and then grinds it into dust. “Nah, it was just a weird thing, and talking about it is…”
“A no-go?”
He nods, seeming pathetically grateful that I’m not pushing it. “Yeah. It’s not a big secret or anything ugly, I just…it was a weird situation.”
“I get it. This whole divorce with Nicholas is pretty new still, so it tends to just kind of pop out at the most inappropriate times. I wouldn’t normally, and don’t normally, lead with it like I have with you.”
I don’t know where to go from here. I’m weirded out by this whole exchange, and feeling off-kilter, unsure. I was already unsure if this thing was something it’d be smart to keep pursuing, and now I’m even more unsure.
Jesse senses this, and shoots me a look of resignation. “The whole hound dog thing is a problem for you, huh?”
“It’s not entirely that, it’s just…everything in my life is tricky and touchy right now, and getting involved in anything seems like a less than brilliant idea, I guess.” I sigh, hating how little sense that made. “I’m just feeling weird right now. About a lot of things, not just you.”
He nods, and pushes back his chair. “I get that. You’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want to add
to it.”
“Jesse, I just—”
He smiles gamely. “I get it, Imogen. I do. I don’t like it, but I get it.” He stands up. “I hope you like your new front porch.”
He’s almost to the front door before I get myself into motion. I catch up to him as he’s opening the front door.
“Jesse,” I say, halting him with his hand on the knob. “I’m not saying I don’t want…something. I just don’t know what that is, and I don’t want to lead you on or jump into something I’m not ready for. So…maybe you could…” I don’t know what I’m trying to say, and trail off awkwardly, hoping he’ll finish it.
He does. “Be content to stay on the back burner until you figure your shit out?”
It hurts hearing him put it like that. “Just give me a little time.”
“That I can do,” he says.
I sigh. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I’m such a disaster.”
He laughs, lets go of the knob, and turns back to me. “Imogen, honey…you’re allowed to be a disaster. You’re also allowed to not know what you want.” He leans in close, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me with tenderness and gentility that almost breaks my heart—and my resolve.
And then he’s gone.
I stay standing where he left me, eyes closed, face tilted up, trying to hold on to the feeling of his lips on mine.
Eventually, long after the rumble of his diesel engine has faded into the night, I turn and go to bed.
But sleep is a long time coming, and my dreams are filled with almost-kisses and not-quite embraces and images of Jesse unzipping his jeans.
9
In a break with tradition, I call Audra from my car after my shift the next Saturday, while I’m still in the parking lot.
She answers on the third ring, out of breath, the sound of clanking weights in the background and the muffled thumping of music. “Hey, what’s up? Has it been a week already?”
I don’t even know where to start. “I…he…I can’t—I don’t know how to—”
Audra responds as only Audra can. “I’ll grab Chinese on the way over. You just make sure you have plenty of wine on hand. I don’t work tomorrow, so we can party it up, and you can spill everything.”
“Okay,” I say, barely whispering. “Thanks.”
“Well, duh, that’s what best friends are for, dummy.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too. Be there in thirty.”
Forty minutes later, she’s bustling into my kitchen with three bags full of carryout Chinese, wearing a perplexed expression. “Did you grow a set of skills I don’t know about?” she asks, setting down the food and withdrawing cartons of rice and Styrofoam boxes of sweet and sour chicken and General Tso’s.
I shake my head, handing her a glass of wine. “No. It’s somewhat more complicated than that.” I gesture at the bottle, which is… not as full as it should be. “I’m a glass ahead of you, so chug-a-lug, bug.”
Audra takes me literally, and chugs her glass of wine before pouring more. “There, now we’re caught up.” She finds my paper plates and a serving spoon, gesturing at me with the spoon. “I’ll dish the food, you dish the news. Who’s the guy that’s got you so mixed up? And how the hell did you afford this many pimp-ass windows? And a new porch?”
I laugh. “It’s all part of the story. His name is Jesse, and he’s a contractor.” I take my plate from Audra and we move to my couch, setting our glasses of wine on the floor at our feet. “Remember when I broke my kitchen window and had to have it repaired?”
Audra nods as she takes a bite of food.
“I saw this ad for a company that claimed to be willing to do any project small or large, and look good doing it, so I called them. Dad Bod Contracting. The owner sends his guy out, and he shows up at, like, nine at night.”
Audra blinks in surprise. “That’s nuts. No contractor ever shows up before noon or after five.”
I nod. “I know. But this guy did.” I make eye contact so she knows how serious I am with my next words. “He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met, Audra. I can’t even explain it. He’s big and muscular, but not a bodybuilder, or the vain gym rat type. Rugged, but still handsome. Funny, and nice…and way too generous for his own good.” I sigh.
“The company he works for, which is owned by his best friend and brother-in-law, is building a house for my new boss, which is how I got my new job in the first place.” I pause for a sip of wine. “And the wife, my boss, Dr. Waverley, she decided after she’d bought and paid for a whole bunch of windows that she didn’t want them, and ordered something else entirely, so the windows were just…free. So Jesse came and boarded up my window, and then came by the next day with one of those extra windows and installed it. And then, a few days later, he calls me and asks if he can have access to my house, because he has a surprise. I tell him where my spare key is, and when I get home, he and his buddies have replaced literally all my windows, as well as adding a new one over my stairs. All for twelve hundred dollars. Fifteen hundred, including the original kitchen window replacement. And then—and then when I tell him I quit my job, he makes a call to Dr. Waverley, for whom he’s building a house, gets me an interview, I get the job, and then—”
“There’s more?”
I laugh, nodding. “That’s not even the half of it, Audra! He ghosted on me, but it was an accident and misunderstanding, so he came over to talk, and his foot went through the front step, and—”
“Those stairs were a hazard, so I’m not surprised,” Audra puts in.
“I know, now quit interrupting, dammit. So he just went out and bought a bunch of wood and nails, tore down my old porch and built this new one, all while waiting for me to get home from work. Just because.”
“I feel like I’m missing a lot of details, here.” Audra takes both our plates and dishes up more food for us, and brings the bottle of wine to top off our glasses. “You need to go back and go over a few things.”
“No, Audra, you don’t understand.” I lean close to her, eyes wide. “He kisses like a god. He kisses like…like kissing was invented just for him.”
Audra’s eyes bug out. “You kissed him?” she asks, incredulous, around a mouthful of food.
“It was…he kissed me, and then it was us kissing each other.” Even now, my lips tingle in memory.
“But you didn’t fuck him yet, right?” She washes her food down with a huge swallow of red wine. “I mean, that would be so far out of character I don’t think I’d believe you even if you said yes.”
“Do you have to be so crude about it?” I ask, crankily—this is an old argument between us. “And no, we haven’t slept together.
“Yet.”
I take time to eat a few bites before answering. “I…that’s the issue, Audra. I don’t know if I could. Or should.”
She stares at me, chopsticks halfway to her mouth. “Um. You’re kidding, yes?”
I frown. “Do I sound like I’m kidding? I drank almost an entire bottle of wine in less than an hour, waiting for you. When was the last time I drank that much that fast? College, I bet.”
“No, there was the time when you first suspected Douche-Canoe was cheating on you. You called me on a Tuesday and told me to bring hard liquor.”
I frown even harder. “True. I don’t really remember that night very well, though.”
Audra cackles. “Well, no shit you don’t remember! You had like ten shots and four beers—and you don’t ever drink anything but wine or margaritas. You were hammered. Like, whoa hammered. As in, more wasted than I think we ever even got in college.”
I wave a hand. “The point is, Audra, I don’t know what to do.”
Audra shakes her head. “You make no sense, woman. What should you do? Ride that dick, girlfriend!”
“Audra!” I scold.
She cackles again. “Do you expect anything less from me? Do you know me? Have you met me? I’m the least appropriate person on the planet, and you know it.” She goes
serious. “For real, though. You should totally sleep with him. Why wouldn’t you?”
“I’m scared?”
“Of the size of his dick? Have you seen it?”
I snort, and almost choke on the wine I was in the middle of swallowing. “God, no!” I glance at the ceiling and shrug. “Well, sort of. I kinda, sorta sent him a topless photo. I had pasties on, but still. Well, not pasties, exactly. Those big pink heart stickers I used for my wedding invitations. I sent him that, and he sent me a pic he took in the public bathroom of his favorite dive bar—of him in his underwear. So…I got a sort of glimpse at what he’s rocking. And yeah, I’m a little afraid.”
“Show me! I wanna see!” Again, she says this while trying to chew a mouthful of food, making it muffled.
“Um, no!”
“I’ve shown you pics guys have sent me,” she whines.
“Yeah, but you don’t really care about them. It’s all about riding the dick for you, slutty-buns.”
For once, Audra seems to take real offense. “Hey now, that’s not fair. I do care about them. I just…don’t believe in love.”
“I’m sorry, that was rude.”
She seems somewhat mollified, but not all the way. “You have to show me, now. Otherwise I’ll be offended for at least two weeks. And then who will you have wet burritos and margaritas with?”
I sigh. “If he’d sent me an actual nude, I’d say no. But it’s just underwear, so…fine.”
I pull out my phone, bring up the photo, and show it to her. She blinks at the photo in admiration for a moment, and then pulls the screen closer to her face. “Wait—is that…” She touches the screen with thumb and forefinger and spreads them apart to zoom in. “It is! He’s actually peeking out of those tighty blackies.”
Her comment blasts a laugh out of me, spraying rice and chicken everywhere. “Tighty blackies? Really, Audra?”
She’s still staring at the phone. “Jeee-sus, Imogen. You weren’t lying—the man is gorgeous, in a rugged, rough-hewn sort of way.” She glances up at me. “Does he have any hot friends?”