Chapter 28
squeeze or spank
Liam
I follow, like a puppy bounding after its master, begging for a treat.
When I get to the living room, she’s piled on the sofa, one knee inside my t-shirt, the other underneath her. There’s nothing to see, but everything to wonder about. And it’s making my resolve crumble like sand.
I bail into the corner opposite her, placing my computer on my lap. It’s strategic, frankly, since my dick is warm and growing and most definitely wants to find more heat. I open the laptop, seeing absolutely nothing, but moving my fingers over the keys in an effort to distract myself.
“What are you watching?” I finally have to ask.
“The Great British Bake Off. I love Mom’s recipes, but I always admire what people can do with sugar. And it gives me ideas.”
I want to groan. Instead, and with no subtlety at all, I pull my lips inside my teeth and bite down. “I’m assuming it’s a competition between bakers?”
“You’ve never seen it? Oh my gosh.” She turns to me fully, eyes alight with excitement, and spills more words than I could speak in a day about a television show that’s been on the air for as long as Renée has been alive.
She’s animated and bounces a little, giving me a tease at those cheeks that need my palms…
Those cheeks I want to squeeze or spank or bite.
If she weren’t so innocent, I’d think this was intentional. She’s been buttoned-up, reserved, practically appalled and now I’ve got the cruelest not-strip-tease of my life.
Thank God for the laptop. Seriously. I’m just glad she doesn’t notice it’s wobbling.
When the episode is over, I broach a topic easier than the eggshells one I discussed with Cian. “Lorien?”
She turns her serious gaze to me, her hair whipping to settle back at her neck. “Yeah?”
“We need to figure out a car for you. I can do that while you’re at work or—”
“What?” She cuts me off and scrunches her face. “No.”
“If you’d rather go together, that’s fine, too.”
“That’s not…” She takes a deep breath, exhaling audibly. “That’s not what I meant. I haven’t even discussed it with my insurance.”
“That’s worth doing. Today.”
She slumps in her seat, pouting. “I don’t really want to tell them.”
“You’re not disappointing them. They’re not your family or your friends. Nor do they get a vote. They’re your insurer.”
“I know. But I don’t want to.” Her petulance is cute.
Who the fuck am I? What happened to me? I can’t think this shit is cute. Ever.
“Do you want me to do it?” I ask, half asking, half baiting her.
“No. Fine. Ugh.” She reaches for her phone. When the call connects, she starts strong, but her voice gets smaller and smaller. She paces the room, rubbing her forehead. Only once, do I see it. She looks at me and makes a face. It’s the kind of thing that communicates togetherness.
It’s the kind of thing I’m sure she doesn’t mean to do.
Lorien
There are things that are easy enough to do. Things that must be done. Things I feel adult enough to handle. And there are things that make me feel small and inexperienced.
This call is one of them. I pay the insurance. I set it up. I chose the deductibles and such, but I don’t know what most of it means or how it all works. I don’t have to.
I do research. I had insurance for the never-in-my-wildest-dreams scenario of being pushed through an alley into a brick wall while escaping a scary dude. How am I supposed to explain that?
Come to think of it. I didn’t tell them about the garage, either. It was just fixed with no claim or whatever it is homeowners do when their garage doors are pried apart.
The weirdest part of the whole thing is the look of assurance on Liam’s face as I do it. It verges on pride.
He works on his laptop while I wander and answer their questions. It seems totally normal, and worse, totally natural.
By the time I hang up, I’m annoyed and deflated. I don’t know whether there was a police report made. I have no idea if my neighbor on the opposite end will file a claim against my insurance. My paid-for, dependable car is totaled.
I need a new car.
I’ve never gotten to shop for one. I’ve never had to. And somehow, I already know it won’t be fun.
“What did they say?” Liam asks, looking up from his screen.
“Deductibles, totaled, multi-line loss, blah blah blah.”
“Do you have any idea what you might be interested in? Are you open to ideas?”
I scrunch my nose at him. “No. And I guess?”
“Are you asking me or are you telling me?”
I hate that he repeats that. I know my mind. I’m just slow under a threat or a demand to know which direction I want to go.
I nod. Mostly to annoy him and then give him my best intentionally placating smile.
“If you haven’t bought a car in a while, there are several things to think about. “Price and safety, obviously. Cost of ownership. You definitely want all-wheel drive out here. Four-wheel can work as well. But I’d prefer not a two-wheel drive.”
He’d prefer? Why does he get a vote?
“I think an SUV would serve you well. Electric could work for most of what you do, but the long-term ability to hold value hasn’t been proven.
So if you’re eco-conscious, it’s worth considering.
If you’re looking for long-term ownership like your Accord, I’d steer you away. Are there any brands you love or hate?”
“I have very little opinion on cars, Liam. I want reliable and safe. And don’t want a mortgage payment in a note.”
He spins his laptop around. On the screen is a web site that has tick boxes for everything from fuel efficiency to features to note to luxury things like heated mirrors. It also holds external dimensions.
“Can we eliminate what won’t fit in my garage?”
He turns it back to his view and types and clicks.
“I like the idea of a hybrid too. Might as well do what I can.” I find myself leaning closer and closer toward the screen.
And the man who holds it.
More clicks and the list trims down to a reasonable number. He screencaps before typing, and my phone dings.
“Take a look at those when you can. Eliminate what you dislike, and we’ll test drive the rest. We can do a little each night or spend Saturday shopping. I promise it’s not as sexy as it sounds.”
We. What a relief.
“Thank you,” I offer quietly. It’s sincere. I have no idea how I could do all this without the help. “I don’t know when I’ll get my insurance payout, though.”
“That doesn’t stop you from test driving anything. It just means you won’t know the term. Now, do you want the Tahoe for tomorrow or would you like chauffeur service?”
I drop my gaze. I’m not ready yet. Not after Monday. I don’t want to sound weak. I don’t want to be weak.
His thumb and forefinger find my chin and tilt my gaze up to meet his. His face fills my vision.
“Executive decision. I’ll drive you until you find the car you want.”
“Okay.” My voice is thick. I lick my lips, suddenly feeling exposed.
He closes his eyes as he always seems to do when I’m too close. “It’ll give you more time to research.”
When I’m back on my side of the sofa, he slides the laptop shut and heads down the hallway. The water runs, and I swear I hear the scraping of a manual toothbrush. Doors open and close, and the water shuts off.
“Do you have extra blankets?” he asks from the mouth of the hall.
I have one roughly the size of a beach towel, but no others. “I donated the stuff I didn’t need or didn’t use before I moved. I didn’t see any point in paying to move it.”
He nods solemnly and rolls his neck to the ceiling. He doesn’t seem annoyed, perhaps simply resigned, but either way, the action flashes the tattoos at his neck.
I wish I could get a closer look. That first day—my moving day—I noticed, but I didn’t see, if that makes sense. There was no time to study.
“It’s ten-thirty,” he says frankly.
Oh? Oh. He doesn’t strike me as an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of man. Except maybe to— I shut that thought off midstream. The thing is… I am. I bathe, do my nighttime routine, watch a little TV in bed, and roll over to fall asleep at ten-thirty.
He couldn’t possibly know that.
Could he?