Chapter Fifteen Maren
Chapter Fifteen
Maren
The following day, I wake too early to a text.
Ozzy: Good morning
Maren: Morning. What’s up?
Ozzy: Just saying good morning
I smile at my phone screen as I descend the stairs. The heavenly aroma of coffee and banana bread makes me drool.
“Will said you were getting felt up yesterday after we left,” Jamie says. She’s sitting on Fitz’s lap at the kitchen table. They have two coffees and one plate of buttered banana bread. I’ll miss this level of sweetness when they move out, but I’ll miss Jamie’s baking more.
“Will saw nothing.” I yawn, going straight for the coffee. “What are you still doing here, Fitz?”
Fitz doesn’t look at me but smirks while staying focused on his phone. “I’m at the bottom of the jump list, so I let Jamie talk me into staying for breakfast.”
I’m sure her idea of talking him into staying for breakfast involved very little talking.
“Will said it was all over your face.” Jamie slides out of Fitz’s hold and rests her forearms on the island. “What if his daughter had caught you?” she asks, as if it would have been an exciting event.
“It wouldn’t have been as bad as her catching us in the shed after she came in the house to use the bathroom.”
“I’m out of here.” Fitz stands and kisses Jamie on the back of her neck, on her tattoo. “Love you.” He pockets his phone and carries his YETI and banana bread to the door.
Jamie giggles, glancing over her shoulder. “Love you, too, babe.” When Fitz shuts the door, she returns her attention to me. “Okay. Spill. What happened in the shed? Surely you didn’t have sex while his daughter took a bathroom break.”
I can’t look at her, so I focus on cutting a slice of banana bread. “No. Of course not.”
“Then what happened? You don’t have to tell me. It’s your business. But seriously, what happened?”
I chuckle before taking a bite of bread. “I like him so much, and I like his daughter. But navigating our living situations, his transportation limitations, and his daughter is a lot . So we get these stolen moments, but they’re never the right moments to go ...” I slowly shake my head without finishing.
“The distance?” Jamie asks.
“Yeah.”
Again, my phone vibrates with a text.
Ozzy: I have a busy day at work
Ozzy: So please don’t send me too many inappropriate texts
Ozzy: Keep it to 5 or less
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Jamie says.
“Who?” I glance up from my phone.
“That grin on your face can only be from one guy. Plan a sex date.” Jamie heads upstairs. “I’m going back to bed. Getting up early enough to make Fitz breakfast and convincing him to stay for it was exhausting.”
I laugh while calling Ozzy.
“Good morning,” he answers.
I open my mouth to ask him when and where we can have sex, just not in those exact words, but then I choke.
“Maren?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I’m not sending you inappropriate texts. That would require inappropriate thoughts. And I’m not having any of those.”
“I bet you’ll be heading south later this week. They’re dealing with new fires every day. And I know you’re thinking about the shed.”
“You could be right about the fires. But not the shed. If I’m in town Friday, I could drop Bandit off at your house to stay. I think Lola’s itching to keep him for a few days.”
“She’ll be thrilled.”
“Bandit will be too,” I say.
He chuckles.
“What are you doing?” I take one more sip of my coffee before heading upstairs.
“I worked out and just got out of the shower. I need to wake Lola. Did I pass the test with your roommates?”
I laugh. “I should ask you if they passed.”
“They passed.”
“Listen, I need you to know that I don’t let every guy I date do what you did to me.”
“Okay, then. We’re changing the subject. I like this subject change. I knew you were thinking about it. And it’s good to know, I guess”—he laughs—“that you don’t let every guy do that to you.”
I squeeze toothpaste onto my toothbrush. “I don’t want you to think I’m a bad influence on Lola.”
Ozzy laughs. “I’m not sure how to respond. I hope what happened between us yesterday isn’t revealed to my daughter in any way that could be influential. On the other hand, I must remind you that I said no to the stray cat, and then you took it home. And now I’m hosting it at my place when you’re out of town this summer.”
“You’re upset,” I mumble over my toothbrush.
“I’m not upset.”
“You’re frustrated with me.”
“Before you called, I was looking for any excuse to run an errand so I could swing by your place later today. I’d call that desperation, not frustration.”
The right guy can make any woman feel like a girl—a giddy, emotional, bursting-with-excitement girl. I spit out the suds and press a towel to my mouth to hold in my squeal.
I know I’m a talented pilot.
I’m a leader.
I can be fearless.
And sometimes even a little badass.
But with Ozzy, I’m just a girl who doesn’t have to prove herself.
“Maren?”
I blow out a slow, silent breath before clearing my throat. “What if, in the future, I were to be in your neighborhood some evening—late at night? After you put Lola to bed. Could you sneak me inside?”
“Sneak you inside my house with Lola and her grandparents?” He chuckles. “I don’t know. That’s—”
“You’re not a real sneaker. When I was in high school, my boyfriend squeezed his big body through a daylight window in the basement, nearly getting stuck on more than one occasion, just to make out with me for a few minutes before he missed his curfew. That’s dedication. You’re not dedicated to making this thing between us work.” I’m glad he can’t see the massive smile on my face as I grab my bag and start toward the shed to check Bandit’s food and water.
Am I shaming a single dad for not acting like a teenager? Yes. Yes, I am.
I’m ruthless because he’s awakened my need for sex.
“Uh ...” A nervous laugh accompanies his drawn-out pause.
“I’m kidding.”
I’m so not kidding, but I’m thirty-three, and my conscience is getting the best of me.
“Lola’s in bed by eight on school nights. Realistically, she’s not asleep until closer to nine. My window is on the south side, and it’s a full-size window.”
I bite my thumbnail. Anything to keep from losing my composure. “Really, Ozzy, I was kidding. We’re grown adults. Sneaking around like this is silly. Right?”
“It’s probably unusual for two people in their thirties,” he says.
“Exactly.”
“It was your idea,” he says.
I nod to myself. “A joke. Clearly.” Bandit’s food and water are fine, so I give him a long stroke down his back and head to my RAV.
“Clearly,” he echoes.
A long pause settles between us.
“So you’ll drop the cat off Friday night?”
I’m not thinking of Bandit, because I’m too busy wondering what Ozzy’s room looks like, the size of his bed, and the thickness of his walls.
“Maren?”
“Yeah.” I fasten my seat belt. “Friday it is, unless I’m not in town.”
“Great. I can’t wait to see ...”
“Me?”
He chuckles. “Never mind.”
“What do you mean, never mind?”
“I was going to make a joke, but it’s inappropriate, and I’m a dad, so never mind.”
“Now you have to tell me.” I start my RAV.
Again he laughs. “It was nothing. Just, uh, a cat joke. I was going to say I can’t wait to see your cat.”
I chuckle because he’s laughing. The joke is not that funny. In fact, I don’t get it.
“Except I was going to use a different word for cat, and that’s when I realized I would sound like an immature boy, so never mind.”
“What word for ...” I shift into reverse. “Oh my god. Pussy?”
He snorts.
“Now who’s the perv?”
I try to suppress my laughter. He’s right. It’s a childish joke. So why am I so tempted to tell him my pussy can’t wait to be seen?