Tuesday, December 27 #4
The heels of his shoes tapped on the floor as he walked across the living room. When he reached the panoramic wall of glass, Nicholas resumed his solo marathon. He paused to take a sip or two from his glass. He missed Angelica so damn much.
“… Like a shattered tune on a scratched record …”
On Saturday, he reclaimed the heated path he needed to travel. But like a fix, it was now wearing off, leaving him with an insufferable ache. An ache only she could cure.
Almost two weeks. How would he endure that long? Tough as steel in business, Nicholas’s personal emotions were as tangled and broken as a string of last year’s Christmas lights, all strung out over Angelica.
* * *
In drier clothes, they shared a late-night takeout dinner in Angelica’s kitchen.
While the dishwasher cycled, Garrett headed to the wingback chair by the fireplace as the logs burst into a fiery blaze.
Daisy beat him to the chair. He was growing fond of the cat.
He grinned, sat on the sofa with his brew, and crossed his ankle over his knee.
“I left the keys on the counter by the coffee maker,” he called over his shoulder. “You have new locks, too.”
“I hope you didn’t keep a set,” Angelica said as she entered the living room, her arms overflowing with bedding.
Garrett wanted keys for sure. Any door would do. “Nope, both sets are here.”
Angelica tossed the pillow and blanket onto the couch. “Don’t get too comfortable, or I’ll charge you rent.”
All he could gather from their lively banter was that Angelica had a humorous side. Even though he spent a lot of time with her, Garrett knew no more about what made her tick than he had on the first day they met.
He’s going to need a hell of a lot of beers tonight. Holding her in the rain stirred up things that hadn’t been stirred up in years. Garrett sensed a chain reaction happening, which was bad.
As Angelica sat beside him, a drink in hand, he took a few sips from the sweaty can of ale. “Are you still thinking about leaving Arbortown?” he asked, his breath hanging like clothes on a line, hoping for sun, unprepared for rain.
She nibbled on her fingernail and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know.”
The Coors met his mouth, and between swallows, he asked, “What would it take to keep you here, Angelica?”
Garrett chewed on his lip as Angelica stared into the wine glass she held with both hands.
“I must be able to support myself. I’d have more options near the capital.”
“Have you considered selling paintings? You can work in the cabin and display your artwork in galleries or tourist shops between the Canadian border and downstate,” Garrett suggested.
Angelica shrugged and let out a thoughtful sigh. “I’m not sure,” she hedged. “I’ve never tried my hand at acrylic or oil paint, or worked on large canvases. Chalk and pencil drawings are my medium, on a much smaller scale. Anyway, I don’t think I’m good enough.”
“You’re better than good. You do beautiful work, honey. That’s why the publisher hired you.”
“Thank you, Garrett.” Angelica smiled. “I needed that encouragement.”
She finished her drink, and the glass clinked as she set it on the coffee table. “I’m going inside. I don’t want to keep you up.”
He’d have no problem with Angelica keeping him up all night, even into the early morning. “You’re not keeping me up. Stay as long as you want. I typically go to sleep around midnight.”
Angelica covered a yawn before stretching her hands down her jeans. “It’s okay. I should be off. I have things to do tomorrow, and you haven’t been getting much sleep with me hanging around. I’m sure you’re exhausted after installing the door.”
Hell, sleeping alone wasn’t what he wanted.
If she wanted to sleep in his arms on the sofa again, in any position, he was all for it.
Or even better, try the bed. Somehow, Garrett didn’t think she’d be receptive to that last option.
He hazarded a guess at how to convince her to stay up a little longer.
He watched her as she yawned once more. Drowsiness took hold and got the better of her; exhaustion did as well, as she leaned back and closed her eyes.
Angelica didn’t seem to be leaving. There went her idea of going off to bed and his idea of convincing her to stay up.
She looked so cute, squirming and curling her shoulder into the cushion, fussily seeking comfort as she dwelled in another realm. He would never tire of watching her.
Or envisioning what lay beneath her clothes, including the size of her bra.
Garrett considered a D cup but ruled it out.
Since she’s so petite, what she carried on top might just be a plentiful B.
He’d have no problem with that. Based on her choice of sleepwear, her intimate apparel had to be lace with minimal coverage. Maybe even a thong.
As he fantasized in Victoria’s Secret land and began to sweat, Angelica slumped sideways, her neck curving sharply to the right.
Oh, crap! That’s not good. She’s going to wake up with the worst kink in her neck. Maybe she’ll ask him for a massage? A full-body one. Oh, hell, his hormones need an urgent vacation.
Garrett tapped her on the shoulder. “Honey, you should go to bed.”
Angelica didn’t move. His eyes surveyed the scene.
A sleepy cat curled into a ball by the fireside, and her sleeping mother.
A cozy indoor winter scene, like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
He preferred something more abstract—something in shades of fiery red, with naked limbs, sweat-drenched bodies, and hair tossed to and fro.
As his mind lurked in the gutter, her body tilted, but unlike the Tower of Pisa, it was about to tumble like the walls of Jericho. Garrett’s arms shot out.
He caught Angelica, slid his arm around her, and pulled her to him. “I’ve got you, Baby. I’m not going anywhere.”
Angelica cuddled against his shoulder, her arms snaking around him. She definitely enjoys doing that, and he isn’t going to fight her off—ever! To anyone walking in, they looked like a normal, happy couple snuggling by the fireplace. Ignoring how it looked, it felt so right to him. So perfect.
Garrett got his wish fulfilled—sleeping on the couch with Angelica in his arms. It didn’t require any convincing, either. Too bad they hadn’t shed some clothes.